The Hidden Prince
by Misty Glow
Summary: After Lyanna's death, Ned makes a decision to leave Jon to be raised in Dorne.
1. Chapter 1

A/N With this particular plotline, I'm exploring the fate of Jon if Ned had made an alternate decision following Lyanna's death. The focus will be on plans and schemes to restore the Targaryens to power, and not the threat of white walkers. I'll leave the grumpkins to G.R.M. because no one could tell it like he could.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 1

Ned had left him, following the sound of a woman's voice screaming in agony. Howland sat, leaning against a boulder, assessing his wounds. He had been cut on his side, but he might just make it. He lifted his tunic and pulled off his shirt. He needed to get some pressure on his wound and he could only think to bind himself in his own clothing.

"That was a dirty play," groaned the man whom Howland had just literally stabbed in the back.

Howland turned his gaze to the man lying on his back not six feet away. He had stabbed the man through with his sword. Why wasn't he dead? Well, he would be soon at the rate he was bleeding. But he had managed to unhinge his armor at on one side and had his hand bunching the fabric of his undergarment and pressing it against his exit wound.

"The result is the same. You are dead, Dayne, for the crime of keeping Lady Lyanna held prisoner and aiding Rhaegar in her abduction."

Sir Arthur Dayne laughed or coughed, Howland couldn't be sure which, causing blood to spray from his mouth. "Fools," he hissed, "you know nothing."

Howland ignored the dying man and continued tending to his own wound, wrapping his shirt around his torso and tying it snuggly. But Dayne would not die so quickly.

"How can you, a yellow-bellied backstabber, protect the prince?" Dayne rasped, coughing up more blood. "Help me, and I will help you."

"Your prince is dead. You are dead. Close your eyes and say your last prayers to your Gods," Howland replied as he lifted himself painfully to a standing position. He wanted desperately to follow Ned and see Lyanna again after all this time and worry. Ascending all the stairs against the tower would not be an easy task in his condition, but he would just have to force himself. He leaned on his sword, using it like a cane and limped a few feet. He glanced at the suffering man on the ground and at all the men no longer suffering all around them. It had been bloody business.

"The least you could do is finish me," Dayne rasped in defeat.

Howland hesitated. It could be a trick to take Howland down if he got too near. His guilt over stabbing the man in the back, however, might be slightly mollified by putting him out of his obvious misery. He hobbled closer, hesitating slightly. It seemed that Dayne was too gravely injured to make any sort of efforts. Howland made his way to Dayne's head and planted his sword against his throat.

"Stop," a voice commanded.

Howland looked toward the tower, raising his sword away from the dying knight. On the stairs stood Ned Stark, cradling a bundle in his arms. His face was drawn and pale, as if great sorrow had befallen him. Howland's heart clenched in his chest.

"My Lord? The Lady Lyanna…?" Howland dared to ask.

Ned finished descending the stairs and approached them. "She is gone."

Howland leaned heavily on his sword again, his sorrow weighing heavily. Lyanna had been his friend, his confidant. All this time he cared not about Robert and his rebellion. He had only cared about getting Lyanna back from the clutches of the Targaryen prince who had kidnapped her. His eyes watered and he had to look away. Brave, kind and honorable Lyanna Stark had left this world all too soon.

"Let me see the prince before I die," Sir Arthur spoke, his voice rattling with effort. Bloody fingers lifted toward Ned.

Howland believed Sir Arthur was hallucinating until Ned kneeled next to him and revealed a baby in the cloth bundle he had been holding. Howland sucked in his breath, "My Lord?"

Ned nodded. "He is Lyanna's son."

"And Rhaegar's," Dayne whispered. "He is the crown prince. You must protect him."

"She made me promise, with her last breath, to protect him. And I shall."

Sir Arthur seemed to sigh with relief. "Then I can die in peace."

"There has been enough death today. Howland, take the babe." Howland knelt next to Ned and took the child in his arms, astonished and confused as Lord Stark began removing the knights armor, preparing to tend his wound. He tore off the sleeve of Dayne's tunic and folded it for a dressing and pushing on the wound. Then he stood and said, "I'm going to fetch the women upstairs to come tend to your wound."

"I don't understand," Howland spoke.

"We were wrong," Ned replied. "We were very wrong."

OOOOOOO

It was a strange procession – two wagons, one carrying a feverish knight asleep in the back, and driven by Ned Stark. The other carrying five women and one man, the remainder of servants from the Tower of Joy, all happy to be returning home to Starfall. The journey would take three days, as frequent stops had to be made to tend to both the baby and the injured man.

Ned thought of Ashara Dayne, the girl he had loved and wanted to make his wife before he had been obliged to marry Catelyn after Brandon's death. They had met and fell in love at the Tourney of Harrenhal, sneaking away to steal kisses whenever they could. It was such a happy time, a brief slice of joy that had been too soon overshadowed by the terrible horrors his family suffered.

And now he was bringing Ashara's brother home to her, hopefully still alive, after believing he was part of the grand conspiracy to start a war by aiding in the abduction of Lyanna. But it was all a lie. And Ned could now see he was all too ready to believe that Rhaegar had nefarious purposes, even though he thought he knew his sister. He knew she did not love Robert and did not want to marry him. But had he been so blind as to not see her love for Rhaegar?

All the signs had been there, in front of everyone's eyes. The songs, the glances, the crowning of Lyanna with the blue winter roses. Yet, Ned and everyone else turned a blind eye and didn't want to believe that Lyanna would not do her duty and marry Robert. And when she disappeared that day, they had all thought it was a Targaryen plot ordered by mad King Aerys.

Why did she not leave a letter? So much pain and death could have been avoided. Ned had not had time to question her during her last precious moments. It would not change anything now anyway. It was done. Their father and Brandon were dead, and Robert was going to claim the throne. Ned was now Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, married to Catelyn Tully. His mother was ill from grief when he left her behind at Riverrun, her last words urging him to find his sister. The Starks had lost too many in such a short amount of time. It would be up to him and Benjen to rebuild their numbers.

He knew he wouldn't be able to linger long at Starfall. He only wanted to deliver Sir Arthur Dayne home to his sister. Even if the knight died, Ned would have to bring the Sword of the Morning back to their family home… to Ashara. And he had to have her assurance that the servants Ashara had loaned to aid Lyanna during childbirth would be kept silent about the birth. It could never be allowed to get back to Robert's ears that a Targaryen heir was alive.

OOOOO

They finally entered the gates near noon the following day, the guards recognizing their servants and their ailing master in the wagons. They looked warily at Ned, not quite knowing who he was, until the lady of the castle came hurrying out.

Ashara Dayne, only sixteen years old and already burdened with the responsibility of the castle, held her hands to her chest, deep concern on her face when she saw the state her elder brother was in. "Hurry, call the maesters. Take him carefully up to his chambers," she ordered the servants. Her eyes met Ned's. "Ned," she said, breathlessly, "what has happened? Who is this?" She indicated the body wrapped carefully in linen in the other wagon.

"It is my sister," Ned replied, his eyes pained. He didn't realize how difficult it would be to see Ashara again, and how much his heart still longed for her. But it was impossible now. His eyes watered at the sympathetic look on Ashara's face and he stiffened a bit when she threw her arms around him.

"Oh Ned, I'm so sorry. The child…?"

Ned stepped gently from her arms and called the wet nurse over. She was holding the baby, asleep in her arms. Ashara pulled the blanket away from his face with one finger. "A boy?"

Ned nodded.

"He is lovely," she stated. "My brother's injuries, how bad are they?"

"They are grave," Ned replied.

Ashara's face paled. Ned knew so much tragedy had fallen on the Dayne family as well, leaving a sixteen-year-old girl in charge of her family's castle. They had both been handed responsibilities they had never thought to have before. "I must go to him. Please, stay as our guest and rest. You can inquire about merchant vessels sailing toward your home in the morning."

Ned nodded in gratitude and watched her hurry away toward the castle. The Dayne's had supported the Targaryens in the war, yet here he was accepting their hospitality. But he knew it was only his history with Ashara that made this possible. The guards did not look at him kindly, but even they would respect their Lady's wishes.

OOOOO

Two days had passed before Ned would see Ashara again. She had been at her brother's side, helping the maesters tend to him. Surprisingly, the knight seemed to be holding onto life. Ned had spent the time at the harbor, asking for news and securing passage. He finally found a vessel that would be leaving in three days for King's Landing. He knew that he'd have to bring Lyanna's body to Robert so that he could say his last farewell. Then he would take his sister to Winterfell where she belonged.

The babe seemed to be thriving and Ned began to call him Jon. He couldn't call him Aegon, as his sister had named him, for that would surely give him away as a Targaryen. Jon spent most of his time at the bosom of the wet nurse, and Ned intended to ask Ashara if he could take the woman with them to Winterfell. Catelyn would need a wet nurse too, if the Gods were kind.

On the third day, Ashara came to the hall for breakfast, seating Ned to her right and announcing that Sir Arthur's fever had broke and he was on the mend. There was cheering at the glad tidings.

Ashara put a hand on Ned's arm. "Thank you for bringing him home," she said. "The war is over. Let us be friends once again."

It was heartbreaking to see the look in her eyes, the look that was only for Ned. He knew that she must have loved him as much as he had loved her. But the dream they once shared could no longer be.

"I would like that," Ned replied. "Thank you for your hospitality as well, my Lady. I am weary with grief and hope now that all conflict has ended. It is time for peace."

"I agree, my Lord. My brother and I would like to have a word with you before you depart."

"He is well enough to speak?"

"He is stubborn enough to speak," she smiled. "And there are important matters to discuss."

OOOOOO

Sir Arthur Dayne lay propped up on pillows, yet awake as Ned walked into his chamber. Ashara ordered everyone out of the chamber except for herself and Ned. Then she shut the door and motioned for Ned to sit next to the bed. She took a seat as well.

"Your sister told you, didn't she, about the marriage?" Sir Arthur began.

"She didn't have to. She told me the child's name was Aegon Targaryen, not Aegon Sand."

"And you know they were in love? That she was not kidnapped?"

Ned nodded. "Yes, I realize that now. Is there proof of this wedding?"

Sir Arthur nodded. "It was a private ceremony, but the maester who performed it took the secret missive with him to the citadel. He is not to reveal it to anyone."

"He also annulled the marriage of Rhaegar and Elia before the ceremony. Lyanna was his lawful wife," Ashara added.

Ned nodded, another mystery solved in his mind. He knew the Targaryens had a history of multiple wives at times, but most of Westeros viewed second or third wives as mistresses. He felt a bit relieved that his sister meant more to Rhaegar than that.

"The news is that Robert Baratheon has taken the throne by right of conquest," Sir Arthur continued, his frown deepening. "Dorne will never accept him after what he has done to Elia and her children. But they will follow a Targaryen prince."

Ned stood. "No! He is yet a babe! No one can know who he is. No one can know of his Targaryen blood. Do you wish for everlasting war? Robert would not stop until he was dead."

Ashara reached out and held Ned's hand. "Ned, please sit."

Ned's blood was pounding in his ears, but he reluctantly sat.

"What do you plan to do with the child?" she asked.

"I have thought much on this," he answered. "I will say he is my bastard. That I strayed one night after having too much drink. I would not be the first man to do so."

Sir Arthur laughed and then winced in pain at the effort. "No one would believe the honorable Ned Stark strayed on his wife. We all know that there is no hungrier man than a Stark on his wedding night."

Ashara cast her eyes down and Ned wanted to lash out at Sir Arthur for his crass words, but he didn't want to make her more hurt than she already was.

Ned's face grew tight and his words clipped. "My promise to my sister is more important than what people may think of me. I will protect that child and raise him like my own."

Sir Arthur studied him for a moment and nodded. "I believe it, but my sister and I would like to propose another option."

"Ned," Ashara began, "your lady wife may not like you bringing home another woman's child. A bastard in the North would not be treated as well as a bastard in Dorne. Let me raise him as my child, here at Starfall."

Ned mouth practically fell open. "But Ashara, what of your reputation?"

"My dear Ned," she smiled squeezing his hand, "you've forgotten the Dornish do not hold such harsh beliefs. Women take lovers before they've wed, and some have children. Here, their value is not diminished for such things."

"You see, Lord Stark, my sister speaks true. As her son, he would have all the respect and privileges of a high born. And, when he is older, I shall begin his training as well as protect him as I have sworn my life to do. I made my vow to protect my king, and to me he is my king."

Ned shook his head. "He cannot be treated as a king. No one must know who he is. Do you not understand Robert's hatred of Targaryens? Already he sends ships to hunt down the remaining children of Aerys at Dragonstone."

"No one would know," Ashara assured him. "He will be Jon Sand, my son, with a doting uncle at his side. We will protect him and love him, Ned. And your promise to Lyanna will be kept. Robert will not find out about her son. You will not have to bring home a bastard to your Lady wife and have to dishonor yourself in her eyes."

It was a strong argument, Ned would have to admit. He had already witnessed Dayne's commitment to protecting the child. He had no doubt he would give his life again. And Ashara, for the love she felt for what they had and what they would have had if circumstances had been different, would gladly help him as he would her.

"Let me think on it," Ned replied, feeling conflicted. "I will give you my answer tomorrow."

OOOOO

A/N Let me know if you'd like to have more of this plotline. If there is interest, I'll gladly continue. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank all of you for your responses to this fiction. I was very surprised and pleased. Yes, I have taken certain liberties with the Dayne family history and details for those of you who have mentioned it. I had to have the history between Ned and Ashara established if we are to believe Ned would leave Jon with her. I hope you continue to enjoy this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and make no money by the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 2

Ned climbed the stairs to the balcony overlooking the garden, spotting Ashara holding Jon and looking at him with affection. A pang of longing filled his heart. If Brandon had still lived, Ashara would have been the mother of his children, not Catelyn. The day before Lyanna had disappeared, he had asked his father to approach Ashara's father with an offer of betrothal. Being the second son, Ned had more choices than Brandon. Brandon was the heir and his marriage would a political alliance. A high-born daughter, such as Catelyn Tully, would be made Lady of Winterfell and tie the Starks and Tullys by marriage.

As the second son, Ned had the freedom of fostering with Jon Arryn. He had more freedom to make his own way and his own choices. But now, all that had changed. All the plans he had made for Ashara and himself would never come to fruition. Brandon and his father were killed by the mad King and his mother had informed Ned that he would have to honor the marriage contract between the Tullys and the Starks. And with the start of the war, alliances were extremely important. So, he did his duty and married Catelyn at the Riverlands, while Jon Arryn married her sister. Two weeks later, he left for the war and hadn't seen his wife since.

Ashara turned to Ned, smiling. She was so beautiful he almost forgot to breathe. "Look at him, Ned. I can tell he will be strong. He likes the warmth of the sun on his skin. Perhaps he will be dragon blooded like his father."

"Motherhood suits you," Ned said.

Ashara's eyes met his. "I wish he really was our child. But if I cannot have your son, I would have your nephew. At least, there would a part of you I can love."

Ned's eyes searched hers. "Ashara, forgive me."

Ashara's eyes watered and she replied, "There is nothing to forgive. I know you had to do your duty. And I had to do mine when my father and oldest brother were killed in battle."

"I had asked my father, you know. I want you to know that I had asked, and he agreed. Then Lyanna disappeared and everything changed. I had written a letter to tell you the good news, but it never was sent." Ned could still remember writing the letter to Ashara, telling her that his father had agreed to their marriage. He had been so happy that day, his head filled with plans and dreams. One day he was filled with joy, then next day it was as if joy was made of glass and shattered too easily.

Ashara nodded and looked out over the garden, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I have had many suitors, many offers. But yours was only one I wanted. Though there is little hope for us now, I will always love you, Ned."

Ned looked down, knowing that honor forbade him returning those words to her. He was a married man now, and had to honor his vows. But he didn't have to say it. She knew. The longing in his eyes told her everything in this heart. He needed to change this conversation before he did something dishonorable.

"I have decided to leave Jon with you and your brother."

Ashara's smile grew wider. "Oh, Ned, thank you." She kissed Jon on his cheek and rocked him gently in her arms. "I adore him already. You will not regret this. We will see to his education and training. You will be so proud of him, you will see."

Ned nodded. "I know you will love him. That is who you are, Ashara. I only ask that you write to me and tell me of his progress. Make no mention of his origins in your letters, in case they are intercepted or read by the wrong eyes. Perhaps I can find reason to visit in the future."

"You are always welcome here."

OOOOO

(14 YEARS LATER)

"Uncle, what is this place?" the curly-haired boy asked.

They had ridden half a day to the foothills north of Starfall, to strange groves of trees on which vines fell almost to the ground. They halted their horses and gazed around.

"This is where I went to practice when I was your age. This is where I learned it," his Uncle Arthur replied, sounding nostalgic.

"Learned what?" the boy asked.

Arthur slipped off his horse and pulled both his swords out of their scabbards. "Learned to fight with two swords." He walked to a tree and began a flurry, a dance of sorts, and the vines fell easily to the ground around him. The metal moved and gleamed so gracefully, the boy could barely follow the movements with his eyes. "You try now, Jon."

Jon slipped off his horse, grinning with anticipation. He had only been trained with one sword before this and was eager to try something new. His uncle stepped forward and presented him with a second sword before stepping aside. Jon went under the next tree, trying to remember what he just observed. He began to swing his arms, awkwardly, as the vines seemed to move with his sword. Not one of them fell to the ground.

His uncle laughed.

Jon stopped trying and glared at the man. "Did you give me dull swords? That is not funny, uncle."

"You are wrong on both counts. The swords are not dull, and it was funny." He walked to stand in front of the boy, crossing his swords in front of himself. "You have so far learned to strike at a man's chest or bowels. Now you must perfect striking at his neck. These vines are the perfect height for this practice. If you are to cut through the bone and relieve him of his head, you must be quick and precise. If you are too slow, or you strike at the wrong angle, your blade will get stuck. The time you spend taking your blade away, could mean your life."

He demonstrated the motion again in slow motion, so Jon could see the angles. Then he sped up, once again trimming the vines easily. "Now you try."

He stepped away and Jon began trying to imitate him, managing to cut two vines while becoming quickly out of breath at the efforts.

"Again, faster," Arthur said.

On and on they practiced, until the boy was drenched with sweat and trying to catch his breath. Not once did he complain. Jon was no quitter.

Sir Arthur Dayne finally asked him to cease, and pointed with one of his swords toward a pond. "Go and refresh yourself. I will start a fire."

Jon tossed his gear on the ground and ran, happily leaping in the cool, clear water. He felt like he was thirsty enough to drink it all. He swam and floated on his back, watching as the sky grew darker and the stars began to peep out. When the smell of meat roasting reached his nose, he came out of the pond and joined his uncle at the fire.

"I need more practice with two swords," Jon said, tearing off a piece of the succulent desert hare they had caught this morning. "I am not as fast as you yet."

Arthur grinned, "No, you are not. Do you think it took me one afternoon to learn what I know?"

"No, I suppose not. Mother says I'm too impatient."

"You are much like your father in that way."

Jon looked at his uncle. It wasn't often that his father was brought up. Certainly, his mother always changed the subject. But now he was out here, alone with his uncle, and he grew hopeful that he would learn more.

"You sound as if you knew him well," Jon stated, hoping to keep on the topic. He never really understood why they did not like to speak of him.

Arthur sat silent a moment, studying Jon across the fire, his face half covered in shadow. "I did," he finally spoke, almost a whisper.

"Tell me more," Jon pleaded. "Please, uncle. I want to know. Was he a bad man? Is that why mother won't speak of him? Did he hurt her?"

"No, he did not hurt her. He was a good man, a brave man. I was proud to be counted among his friends," Arthur replied, unable to let Rhaegar's image be sullied in his son's mind.

Jon nodded in relief. He knew his father had died during Robert's Rebellion, but that was all that they had told him up until tonight. He was glad to know his father was a good man.

"He would be very proud of you," Arthur added, taking another bite of hare. "That, I know for certain."

OOOOO

Ashara watched Prince Oberyn Martell as he approached, bowing and greeting him politely. The servants fluttered around, pouring wine and settling him on the damask cushions in her solar.

"Ashara, you are as beautiful as ever. Why do you not grace us with your presence at Sunspear? You and your brother have been such recluses," he began, studying the woman before him.

"The days pass swiftly, my Prince, as do the years. I hardly recognize their passing," she smiled, settling herself across from him.

"That they do," he agreed. "Yet, I feel the winds of change blowing," he replied airily, waving his hand once. "Do you not feel it?"

"In what way, my Prince?"

He smiled at her, sipping his wine. "Have you heard about Jon Arryn? Robert's hand?"

"We heard he had died."

"Yes, indeed. And Robert took his whole family all the way to Winterfell to fetch Ned Stark, his new hand," he said, watching Ashara's face carefully. "They travel now to King's Landing, along with his two daughters. The eldest is to be wed to Joffrey Baratheon."

Ashara nodded. She had already heard the news. Ned had written of this before he had left Winterfell. "Ned Stark is an honorable man. Perhaps he could help keep Robert's impulsive nature under control," she replied.

"Hmm, yes, I hear you know Ned Stark quite well," Oberyn said, plucking a grape from the cluster on the table before him.

Ashara made a nervous gesture before replying. "Why ever would you think that?"

Oberyn appeared like the cat that cornered the mouse. "Perhaps it is the fact that he visits Starfall every two years. Yes, my beauty, my spies are everywhere, especially at the ports." He grinned as Ashara's color changed. "A northern Lord bearing such interesting gifts for your bastard son."

Ashara shifted uncomfortably, clasping her hands on her lap. "He is a kind man," was all she could manage to say.

"No doubt," Oberyn smiled, "but it intrigued me nonetheless. I did some more digging, and found out that there was a romantic liaison between the two of you at the Tourney of Harrenhal." Oberyn shrugged. "These things happen. Even the honorable Ned Stark could not resist such a beauty as you. Then, it all made sense to me."

"My Prince?"

"The reason such a woman like you never married. You love him. And though he married another, you could not. I understand love, Ashara. I truly do. And all these years I did not care if Ned Stark came to Dorne to see you and his bastard son. But, now that he is Robert's hand, things have changed."

Ashara almost sighed with relief. Oberyn believed her son to be Ned's. That meant his spies were not within her walls and her deepest secret was still secret. But what was he trying to tell her now? "How have things changed? I care not what goes on at King's Landing."

Oberyn studied her face. "Do you not? How about Dorne? Do care for the fate of Dorne?"

"Of course. But we are not at war. We live quietly here at Starfall."

"It is true. We are not at war. But there are those who would bring war to Westeros. Those who hate the current king and feel he has no right to the Iron Throne."

He couldn't possibly think Dorne alone could win against the rest of Westeros. That was madness. But Ashara had to be careful with her words. "What are you saying, my Prince?"

Oberon sighed and motioned a servant to refill his goblet. "Nothing for certain. But we must be ready. There are rumors, nay reports, that across the sea the last of the Targaryens are trying to amass forces to reclaim the throne. The girl, Daenerys, has just married a Dothraki Khal in hopes that he'll take his forces to Westeros and put her brother on the Iron Throne."

"Do you think that would be enough?"

"Honestly, no," Oberon replied. "The Khal may be enthralled with her beauty, but controlling the Dothraki, well, that is another matter those two children are not prepared for."

"If you believe they will fail, then what is Dorne preparing for?"

Oberyn grew silent a moment, looking her over, and then said, "What I just told you is public knowledge. But can I trust you, Ashara, with matters not so public? That is reason for my visit today. Your relationship with Ned Stark puts you in a very untrustworthy position."

"House Dayne fought against Robert Baratheon. My father and my brother both died in that war. Why would you ever think I would support him? Arthur was Kingsguard, yet he refused to serve the usurper. That is why we have kept to ourselves here at Starfall."

"Speaking of your brother, where is he?"

"He has been out hunting with my son for a few days. They enjoy such trips." The truth was that Ashara had sent them away on their hunt the moment she had received a message that Oberyn was on his way. She wanted to keep Jon away from the Dornish nobility as much as possible.

"I see. Neither of you have married, and have no legal heirs. There is only your bastard son. Why haven't you petitioned my brother to legitimize him? Do you wish for the Dayne's to die out? Perhaps your castle will become the House of Sand. My daughters can move in," Oberyn laughed. Then his face grew serious. "Unless, of course, your lover would like to make him a Stark."

"That would never happen," Ashara reassured.

Oberyn prepared to stand. "Then you have a fortnight to bring your son and your brother to Sunspear where all three of you will swear your loyalty to Prince Doran and Dorne. And your son will become a Dayne."

Ashara wanted to scream that her son already had a name, but she kept silent and nodded. She need Arthur to return quickly so they could discuss what they were to do next. It seemed they could no longer hide away at Starfall, safe from the politics of the day.

Oberyn stood to leave. "The time has come, Ashara, for your family to decide where your loyalties truly lie. If you were to start feeding information regarding Dorne to Robert's hand, that could be considered treason. And we all know the penalty for treason. Enjoy the rest of your day, Lady Dayne."

The prince left, headed for the harbor and the ship that waited to return him to Sunspear.

OOOOO

(PENTOS)

Magister Illyrio Mopatis had just returned from the wedding of Khal Drogo and Daenerys Targaryen, marveling at the barbarity he had just witnessed and feeling sorry for the princess. He knew her wedding night would not be easy. His two houseguests were now gone, and he wondered if he had done the right thing. The boy, Viserys, was a pompous little cur, and he was glad he had left with his sister. He knew it was a long shot that those two could ever retake the Iron Throne, but he had done his part. Yet, somehow, those players dreaming of a Targaryen restoration seemed to find their way to his doorstep, just like the cloaked man standing on his balcony now.

"Did you give her the eggs?" the man asked.

"Yes," Illyrio replied, "for what good it will do. You could have received much if you sold them."

"You don't understand, old man. It is a test."

"A test for what?" Illyrio inquired.

"You'll see, or you won't see," the man replied.

As the cloaked man turned to leave, Illyrio thought he saw the hilt of his dagger at his waist. He recognized it as the dagger of the Golden Company.

OOOOO

A/N: I didn't want to spend lots of time on Jon's childhood as you can probably guess he was very happy and carefree at Starfall up to this point. Now, however, is the time for Jon's life to get much more interesting. Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter and thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello everyone. I hope you enjoyed your holidays. And now, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 3

 _Dawn Chaser_ , the Dayne family ship, rocked gently at the docks of Starfall as the provisions were being brought on board. Food, water, wine and emeralds were being loaded in various chests and caskets. The emeralds were mined near Starfall and had been the Dayne family's staple of commerce. The emeralds being brought aboard today would be a gift for Prince Doran of Dorne. It was never wise to come to court empty handed.

Ashara and Arthur Dayne stood on deck, gazing out at their lands as the commotion of preparing to sail went on around them. They had been summoned to court by Prince Oberyn and there was no choice but to go.

"Where is Jon?" she asked her brother.

"He and Harran are running their horses before they board. Apparently, you told them they could bring them along to Sunspear." Arthur sighed. "You indulge him too much."

Ashara smiled sadly. "Let me, brother. I fear our lives are about to change. I feel as if I may lose him."

He turned his face to her, studying her expression. "He is almost a man. And, he has a destiny. We should not be the ones to hold him back." He noticed her fingers squeezing the railing tighter. He covered her hand with his. "Sister, you are a beautiful woman. Many women your age still bear children. Perhaps, you should consider a husband while we are at court. You have been a good mother to Jon and I know you could be a good mother for your own children."

She moved her hand away in frustration. "I cannot think of such things right now. I have to know Jon will be safe." She turned to face her brother. "You know he cannot become a Dayne. He is already a legitimate Targaryen. It is dangerous to tell the Martells the truth and it is dangerous to lie to them. What are we to do?"

"If Jon is to take back the Iron Throne someday, he will need allies. They will need to know who he is."

"And what if Doran would rather have his own son on the throne?"

Arthur shook his head, watching Jon and the son of their Master of Arms approaching on horseback. "Targaryens have ruled Westeros for three hundred years. Why would the masses support a Martell over a Targaryen? There are those in Westeros who despise Robert Baratheon. Who do you think they would most likely support? The Martells would be fools to think their claim would be supported outside of Dorne."

"We must not mention the annulment between Rhaegar and Elia. It would anger them," she stated.

"I agree. We shall omit the annulment. But we must tell them of the marriage. Jon must be legitimate. And as the younger half-brother of Elia's children, they may want to help him as family."

"It is fortunate Targaryens have a history multiple wives," she replied. "It shall save our story, brother." She began to pace, thinking further. "What of secrecy? Robert will send his killers…,"

"Stop, Ashara," Arthur said, gently grasping her wrist to calm her. "It would have been convenient if the usurper died first, but he still lives. We shall tell the Prince in private. It would be of no benefit to him to spread the news before all allies are ready. Dorne would suffer greatly if unprepared for war."

Jon waved to them from the dock and Ashara waved back, smiling.

"And, Jon? Should he not know who he is before the Martells do?" Ashara pondered.

Arthur took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes, he should. He has been very curious of his father of late. He is ready to know."

OOOOO

Harran, the son of Starfall's Master of Arms, was only two weeks older than Jon and for as long as they both could remember they were as thick as thieves and as close as brothers. They played together, studied together and trained together. The desert, the oasis, the mines, and the castle had been their playgrounds. And now, for the first time, they were to leave all that was familiar to them and sail to Sunspear.

They sat below deck, playing a game of chance with wooden beads and cards, betting their spoils of sweet breads they stole from the galley.

"What do you think it will be like at Sunspear?" Harran asked, flipping over his cards.

Jon frowned as he concentrated on Harran's revealed cards. "Mother says it's a very beautiful city, though she hasn't been there for quite some time," Jon muttered.

"You don't seem happy about going," Harran commented.

"I'm not the one who is unhappy," Jon replied. "I would like to see Sunspear, but mother seems fearful and I don't know why. Ever since Prince Oberyn came to Starfall, she has been different. What do you think he wants?"

"Prince Oberyn? I don't know," Harran shrugged. "Perhaps he wishes to marry you to one of his daughters," he laughed. "I hear they are quite willful, but beautiful."

"You're not as funny as you believe you are," Jon shook his head.

There was a knock on the door and Ashara appeared with Sir Arthur behind her.

"I'm sorry to disturb your game, but we need to speak to Jon alone," she said. "Please close the door behind you, Harran."

Harran stood and said, "Yes, my Lady." He left the room with a backwards glance at Jon.

"Mother, uncle, what do you wish to speak to me about?" Jon asked, curiously, wondering at the somber expressions on their faces. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Of course not, dear boy," she said as they both sat down at the table with Jon. "It's just that… there are things you need to know about yourself that we have never told you before."

Jon's chest tightened, and he felt he could barely breathe. They both looked almost scared to tell him and it was making the suspense much worse. "Alright," Jon nodded, "tell me. You have been acting very strange since Oberyn came to visit. What did he say to you?"

"He wants Prince Doran to legitimize you," Arthur spoke.

Jon studied both their expressions, unhappy with what he saw. He stood and strode to the porthole window, looking out at the sea. "I see that it is not what you want. I am not good enough to be a Dayne," he said, angrily.

Ashara stood, "No! That's not true, Jon. There are other reasons you cannot become a Dayne."

"Come sit, Jon," Arthur spoke. "Do not put words in our mouths. We will tell the truth."

Jon glanced at his uncle and his mother before nodding and returning to the table. He sat, moodily, looking down at the table.

"What we are about to tell you cannot be spoken of to others. Your life depends on it. All our lives depend on keeping this secret," Arthur explained. "It can only be revealed to those we can trust. At least, for now."

Jon studied his uncle's face, the man who had always been there for him, who had been like a father to him. "Tell me."

"Jon," Ashara began, "I cannot make you a Dayne, because you already have a name."

"I don't understand. Sand is a bastard name…"

"It's not Sand," Arthur interrupted.

Jon looked from his uncle to his mother, confused. He did not like the feeling he was getting.

"I am not your true mother," Ashara finally said, looking downcast.

Jon shook his head, disbelieving. "No, you are my mother. I remember no other but you. Why do you say these things?"

"You are the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark," Arthur blurted out, as if he'd been holding it in for fourteen years. "You are no bastard."

"You are a prince," Ashara spoke. "You are a Targaryen."

Jon stared at her wide-eyed. He hardly knew what to say.

"I told you the truth," Arthur explained. "Your father did die in the war. Robert Baratheon killed him at the Ruby Ford. Your mother died shortly after giving birth to you. Your uncle, Lord Eddard Stark, allowed us to keep you hidden at Starfall because the usurper king would send assassins to kill you if he knew about you. He would still try to kill you if he knew about you."

Jon put a hand on his face, rubbing his temple. "I can't believe all this. That man, Lord Stark, who has come to visit us before, is my uncle?" He met Arthur's eyes. "Then what are you?"

"I am King's guard. I have never stopped being King's guard," Arthur replied. "I served your father and his father before him. And now I serve you as your father bid me, until the day I die."

Jon stared at Arthur a few more moments before turning his gaze to Ashara, his eyes sad. "I am deceived. I thought I had a family and now you tell me they are dead."

Ashara fell to her knees next to his chair, clasping his hands in hers. "Oh, my darling, I love you as much as any mother could love her son. From the day I first lay eyes on you, I wanted to be your mother."

Jon wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb. "No one has to know. You will continue being my mother. We will think of something…"

"Ashara," Arthur snapped, "stop this. You make this harder."

Ashara nodded, wiping her tears and sitting back in her chair.

"Jon," Arthur continued, "you are the heir to the Iron Throne. That is your true destiny, not mining emeralds at Starfall. You have the blood of old Valeria and there is power in that. The usurper king may have been a notable warrior, but he is a terrible king. It is not in his blood to rule like it is in yours."

Jon stood, defiant. "What power do I have? I can ride, hunt and fight. I can read maps and recite knowledge, but so can many others. What good is the blood of old Valeria? How does that help me?"

"It helps the masses believe in your right to rule, as it has for hundreds of years."

"I do not want to rule! I don't want it!" Jon snapped, striding for the door. "I am happy being Jon Sand." He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

OOOOOO

Jon was livid. Why did they have to say such things? What did they expect from him? He climbed to the deck of the ship and to the railing. He felt like leaping off and swimming back to Starfall. He gripped the rail tightly, breathing hard.

A prince? Did they really think he'd be happy about that? And what were they planning on doing with him now by taking him to Sunspear? He should just jump off and swim for shore, start a new life somewhere. They could take that Iron Throne and shove it right up their arses.

He pulled himself up to the railing, gripping tightly. Only the thought of Ashara crying was holding him back. He knew she loved him and leaving like this would break her heart.

He felt so lost, so alone. He had been happy all his life, thinking of Ashara and Arthur as his family. Who was he now?

"Jon," Harran called out, running up to him. "What happened?"

Jon couldn't look at his best friend. "Nothing," he said, calming himself. He couldn't even speak of it to Harran. There had never been secrets between them before. "Nothing has happened."

OOOO

Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene Sand stood at the top of the battlements of Sunspear, watching the _Dawn Chaser_ as it sailed into the harbor. The bastard daughters of Prince Oberyn Martell made it their business to know all that went on and report it to their father if the news was note worthy enough.

"Look sisters, there are boys on that ship," Tyene smiled, spotting two young men standing at the railing as the ship secured the dock. "If they are handsome, they are mine."

"You are such a whore," Obara frowned at her sister. "Besides, everyone knows I'm the prettiest. They will want me."

"Ha," Tyene laughed. "We will see about that."

"Stop arguing," Nymeria scolded, "and let's go down to get a better look."

OOOO

A/N: Thanks for reading and Happy New Year. Please let me know your thoughts on the story so far. Thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 4

In the mountainous region of Essos, between the Jade Sea and the Red Wastes, a caravan of sheep, goats and merchants wound their way through the rugged terrain. Their leader, a man called Kizbet, had made this journey three times before and each time he became more nervous. He kept looking to the skies around each bend, listening for the screeching.

His clients paid him handsomely at the end of each treacherous journey, and each time he'd vow to himself that this would be the last time. But the amount of gold they offered was too enticing. The gold kept him wealthy and it paid for his silence. He glanced back at the poor fools helping him along the path. Each time he'd have to find a new crew because his clients only allowed him to leave once he made his deliveries. The stronger ones they would keep as slaves. The weak or defiant would end up as food, just like the sheep and goats.

The creatures were larger every time he came, getting fed from the provisions he brought. And the people, the clan that called itself Blackfyre, could be even more frightening. His first journey here, they made Kizbet swear to secrecy in exchange for his life and great amounts of gold. The creatures were small back then, and fewer.

After he had sworn, they took him into their vast cave city in the mountains and showed him large eggs which they said were dragons. The Blackfyre's had told him they had spent the last three decades traveling Essos and other strange lands in search of these eggs. What they had found, they brought to this secret stronghold, trying all manner of ways to hatch them.

Then they brought Kizbet to another area of the caves and he couldn't believe his eyes. They had managed to hatch two eggs and for the first time he saw dragons. They were yet small, no bigger than a goat. He asked how they managed to hatch the eggs, but the Blackfyre's would not tell him. And each time he would visit, more dragons had been hatched and they were bigger, aided by the food supply he would bring. And each time, the Blackfyre's gave the dragons more and more freedom to hunt around the mountains. Hence, the journey became more precarious.

He heard a bell tolling. It was a signal that they had been spotted getting closer. It also signaled the dragons to return to the caves. Kizbet was grateful for that, as it would prevent his caravan from turning around and running at first sight of the beasts. There were gates up ahead. Once they entered, they would be closed behind them, preventing any from escaping once they knew their true purpose for being there. The gold did not assuage Kizbet's guilt for bringing these men unknowingly to their doom, but it was the only consolation he had and the means to keep his family living very well.

But then, on the path behind them, they heard a loud screech and the flapping of great wings. Kizbet turned in amazement and fear. It was the first time he had seen a man sitting on the back of the dragon, riding it. The dragon landed on the path behind them and let out another roar. The animals and men all began to run forward toward the distant gates and the safety they thought they'd find there.

Kizbet stood aside, waving them on. "Hurry," he yelled. "Run to gates, there is shelter there." The dragon took a step forward, it's rider was dressed in black armor with a black helmet cover his face. Kizbet was the last to enter the gates before they closed, sealing them in. The dragon and rider had taken to the skies, soaring above them, before entering a cave high up. The caravan was frightened and confused as riders on horses came to meet them. They were all dressed in black armor, circling the caravan and looking them over.

The leader got down from his horse. "Kizbet, my friend, we have been expecting you."

"You… you can ride them now?" he asked nervously.

"Yes, the bigger ones. That is the whole purpose of what we do here." He threw an arm around Kizbet and led him away from the group. "The dragons are getting much bigger. We'll be needing more food for them. Bring twice the amount next time. And, do not worry. You will get twice the gold."

When they were well away from the group, Kizbet began to hear screams of terror. He turned his head, trying to see behind him. At least seven dragons had taken to the sky from the caves and were headed toward the animals and people he had brought with him.

He was pulled away from the grisly sight by his escort's tight grip. "It is better not to watch, my friend. Come inside and rest. How is your family? Did you buy that villa by the sea?"

OOOOOO

As soon as they had disembarked the _Dawn Chaser_ , a group of armed guards drew near. The captain of the guard, stepped forward. "My Lady, my Lord, we are to escort you to the palace."

Ashara and Arthur looked at each other in concern. Then Ashara turned to Jon and said, "You stay with Harran on the ship."

"Your son must come too," the captain added.

Arthur turned his head and said, "Jon, stay close behind me."

Jon followed behind the group, looking back at his friend on the dock. Three girls were approaching Harran and seemed to be speaking to him. Jon wished he was there flirting with girls instead of facing the Prince of Dorne. He had been too upset to speak again with Ashara and Arthur since they revealed his identity to him. But now he wished he had as he did not know what they were walking into. Did the Martells already know who he was? He resolved to keep quiet as much as he could. Maybe Ashara and Arthur would concoct a story. Then they could all go back to Starfall. He would just have to go along with whatever they planned.

As they walked, Jon looked about Sunspear. It was beautiful with it's lavish gardens and pools. The sun glinted off the colorful mosaic tiles that adorned the walls and pathways. The inside of the palace was just as lovely, with it's open air courtyards and decorative columns.

They were led directly to Prince Doran who sat on a gilded chair in the middle of an indoor garden. Fragrant flowers surrounded his sitting area. Jon had heard the Prince was troubled by gout and had trouble walking. The three of them knelt before Doran until the Prince indicated they should stand.

"Welcome," Doran spoke. "It has been so long since you've graced these halls with your beauty, Lady Ashara."

"Thank you, my Prince," Ashara said.

"And, Lord Dayne, it is not everyday we get to meet such a legendary warrior."

Arthur bowed his head in thanks. "My Prince."

Then he turned his attention to Jon, and smiled. "Ah, and this is your son, my Lady?"

"This is Jon," Ashara replied with pride, though Jon noticed she didn't answer the question.

"He does look like a Stark," Doran commented. "Tell me child, do you wish to become a Dayne?"

Before Ashara could interrupt, Jon answered, "With all my heart."

"My Prince," Arthur said, stepping forward, "may we speak to you alone? There are delicate matters we must discuss before any decision takes place."

Prince Doran studied them curiously. Jon appeared frustrated and the Daynes seemed worried. He wondered what could possibly have them at such odds. None of them had any weapons on them, as it was forbidden to enter the palace with them, so he waved a hand, dismissing his guard.

"My brother mentioned you seemed worried, my Lady, when he came to visit you. What do the Dayne's have to hide?"

Ashara met Jon's eyes, pleading silently with her not to tell the truth, but he didn't understand that carrying on this lie could cost their lives. If it was up to her, she'd keep Jon as her son at Starfall. But that would mean denying him his birthright and her brother would never let that happen. She turned her face back to the Prince.

"Forgive me, my Prince, but this is difficult to speak of and we have only told Jon this two days ago. He is still adjusting to the revelation."

Doran lifted an eyebrow. "Now I am very intrigued."

"As am I," came a voice behind them. Prince Oberyn had entered the room and the three of them turned and bowed. "Please continue with your revelation."

"Oberyn, they have requested a private audience," the prince told his brother.

Oberyn continued to stride forward to join them. He went to the right of his brother's chair and crossed his arms. "It's not wise to be alone with people of questionable loyalty," Oberyn commented. "It is better I stay. I can keep secrets too, Lady Dayne."

Ashara and Arthur glanced at one another, and Arthur gave a short nod. "What we are about to reveal must be kept secret for now," Arthur stated. "Can we count on your confidences?"

"You may. What is this about?" Doran questioned. "This is most suspenseful."

"It is about the past, the present, and the future," Arthur said. "It is about Jon and how he came to be."

"We are aware of Lord Stark being the father…" Oberyn replied.

"He is not," Ashara blurted out, her hands clasped tightly. All faces turned to her and she took a breath. "And, I am not his true mother."

Jon looked at the floor, the walls, anywhere except at the people in the room. This had to be the most uncomfortable, unwanted conversation of his life. He loved her with all his heart, but at this moment he wanted to hate her for speaking like this.

"What are you trying to say, my Lady?" Oberyn asked. "Did you find an orphan to raise? "

Arthur stepped in again. "It is true. He was orphaned. But that is not why he cannot be a Dayne. Jon is a Targaryen."

Doran sat forward in his chair. He and Oberyn stared at Jon intently. "What? Is he… Elia's son?"

"No, I'm sorry," Arthur corrected quickly. He did not see that they may jump to that conclusion. "What I mean to say is… Rhaegar took a second wife. He married Lyanna Stark in a secret ceremony. Jon is their child. He would be the half-brother to your sister's children."

Doran and Oberyn stared at Jon, looking him over. "A second wife?" Doran pondered. "You are certain of this marriage?"

"I am," Arthur affirmed with a nod. "Jon is Rhaegar's son and heir. Lyanna Stark died after childbirth."

"I presume Ned Stark knows of this?" Oberyn asked.

"Yes, he came to the Tower of Joy just in time to see his sister as she lay dying," Arthur explained, leaving out the battle that had taken place. He did not want Jon to feel any ill will towards his Stark uncle. "She made him promise to protect her son from Robert Baratheon. Ashara and I convinced him to let us raise Jon in Dorne."

"The Hand of the King, aiding and abetting the enemy," Oberyn laughed. "Who would have ever believed it?"

"Jon is his nephew," Ashara said, raising her chin with pride. "Ned Stark would never break his promise to his sister, even for the King."

"And you, young Prince," Doran addressed Jon directly, "do not seem happy about this revelation. You say you would rather be a Dayne?"

Jon met Prince Doran's eyes, and glanced up at Oberyn. "I was happy being Jon Sand. I thought I had a family that cared about me. I thought I had a mother that loved me. Now I find out that I have neither. My family is dead, and I am alone."

Doran nodded. "I see. But, you are wrong about being alone. The Daynes obviously love you, that is plain to see. You have your Stark relatives, and there are a few Targaryens in exile on Essos, an aunt and an uncle. They would very much like to reclaim the Iron Throne for the Targaryens, though now it appears _you_ would have the stronger claim."

"They can have it," Jon stated.

Oberyn laughed. "Interesting."

"You have given us much to discuss," Doran said. "I admit you have all utterly surprised me with this news. My brother and I will discuss this between ourselves while you are taken to your guest quarters to rest." He picked up a bell and rang it, directing the servants to show the three of them to their rooms. "We will dine privately with you tonight to discuss matters further."

The three of them followed the servants out of the hall and towards a lavish guest house they would have to themselves.

"Why could you not lie to them?" Jon asked, irritated. "They may be sending ravens to King's Landing as we speak."

"Rhaegar's first wife was their sister, who was murdered viciously when King Aerys was disposed of. They have no love for Robert," Arthur replied.

"Why does the King hate Targaryens so much?"

"Two reasons," Arthur explained. "First, if there are Targaryen heirs alive, there is potential for insurrection. Second, he was betrothed to your mother before she ran away with your father. He fancied himself in love with Lyanna Stark and blamed the Targaryens for taking her from him."

Ashara slowed down to walk alongside Jon. "Your father didn't 'take' her. She went with him willingly. They were in love."

OOOO

A child, small for his eight years, swung down from the branches of the date tree next to the palace. He had just come from the roof, surrounding the open-air courtyard of Prince Doran. He had lain still, listening to the words of the Martells and the Daynes.

As he reached the ground, he stealthily slipped into the foliage of the garden. He knew all the crawl spaces and places to go where there were no guards to see him. Away from the palace he went, slipping into alleys and past merchant stalls and shops. He ducked into a linen shop and down some stairs in the back room.

Other children were laying about, napping or eating, while a man sat at a wooden table with scrolls and ink. He was part of the Spider's network of spies that reported any juicy tidbits of information happening at Sunspear.

The boy sat before the table, smiling in anticipation of the sweet treats he would get that night.

OOOO

A/N: A big thank you to everyone reading this fiction. Lots of ideas for this story have been forming in my mind and I'm very excited about them. I hope you enjoy this journey with me. As always, let me know your thoughts. I enjoy hearing from you.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 5

Jon, Arthur, and Ashara stood waiting in the great hall of Sunspear to be summoned by the Princes of Dorne who had been sequestered behind closed doors discussing their fates. Ashara wrung her hands nervously and whispered to Jon. "Let us do most of the talking, Jon. You are young yet, and unused to bargaining with nobles. Remember that they will always have a motive that will benefit them. You must never agree to anything without deeper thought."

Jon, however, was distracted by the sound of music coming from an adjoining room. It was very beautiful and full of emotion. He found himself too curious to resist and moved toward the sound. When he reached the open entrance of the room, he saw the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on. She had long, dark, flowing hair, flawless skin and full lips that glistened with added sheen.

She sat, eyes closed, as she played a large, golden stringed instrument with her long, elegant arms. Jon felt at peace as the music filled his soul. He leaned against the doorway, closing his own eyes as he listened. In his mind's eye, he felt as if he were flying over the land, soaring high above the sand dunes, the palace, the villages. Then the landscape changed beneath him as the sand turned into fields of green and forests.

He kept flying until he noticed the ruins of a very large house below. He circled around it from above, looking for a place to land. He didn't know why he wanted to land there, but the compulsion was strong.

Then he opened his eyes.

The music had stopped, and the beautiful girl was now staring directly at him in question. "Who are you?" she asked.

He didn't know how to answer that at first. Then he said, "I am Jon of House Dayne, from Starfall."

She stared at him a moment, looking him over.

"Your music… it was enchanting," Jon said, breaking the awkward silence. "What sort of instrument is that?"

She raised one eyebrow at his ignorance. "It is a harp. Do you not have music at Starfall?"

"Yes, but not harps," Jon smiled. "Do you live here at the palace?" he asked, assuming she was a court musician. "I would like to hear more of your music."

"Yes, I live here," she smiled, softly. She looked him over again. "You are the bastard son?"

Jon opened his mouth to speak, but Sir Arthur called his named from the hall. "I'm sorry, I have to go," Jon said, backing away. "I hope I see you again," he grinned, leaving the room.

Sir Arthur glanced at him knowingly. He knew Jon must have found a pretty girl to flirt with by the look on his face. "Keep focused, Jon, we have been summoned."

"Yes, uncle," Jon said, automatically. Even though he now knew Sir Arthur was not his uncle, it was the only thing he felt comfortable calling him. And Jon could see that Sir Arthur was pleased Jon felt that way.

As they followed a servant, Sir Arthur leaned into Jon and said, "Your father played the harp. He was quite good."

The three of them were escorted to a chamber in which Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn were seated at a table. Prince Oberyn waved his arm to indicate three chairs that were placed on the other side of the table. Servants scrambled around filling their goblets with wine and laying platters of fine foods before them.

After everyone had eaten their fill and engaged in light conversation, Doran clapped his hands and ordered the servants to leave, giving the small group the privacy they needed.

Doran looked at the three of them in turn and said, "My brother and I have been conversing at length about what should be done and what would be best for everyone involved." He now looked directly at Jon. "You may be a prince, but you have no lands to rule. You have nothing but your name and your blood. Being a Targaryen, it is not enough for us to risk so much for. And, you yourself have expressed no desire to be the Targaryen heir."

Before anyone could speak further, Doran continued. "But, it is often those who express no desire to rule that make the best kings. If you have no desire for power, what do you desire?"

Jon thought deeply. What did he want? He ended up saying the only thing that had been important to him lately. "I want to know who I am and what I am to do."

"And when you find out those things, what will you do then?" Doran asked.

"Do it the best I can," Jon replied, "no matter what it is."

"I have been training him since he was old enough to hold a sword," Sir Arthur said, looking at Jon with pride. "He's a quick learner and works hard at whatever he chooses to do."

"People listen to him when he speaks. He is a problem solver and a natural born leader," Ashara added, smiling proudly at Jon. "He is fair and never cruel."

Jon felt a bit humbled by all the praise. He looked down at the table while they listed his qualities like proud parents.

Doran and Oberyn glanced at each other before Oberyn said, "Robert Baratheon is an unhealthy drunkard who most likely won't live to see his golden years. Who knows how long he has – one year, five years, five days…?" Oberyn shrugged. "He's done nothing for Dorne. What concerns us is who takes control after he's gone. Joffery is young and the one pulling his strings will by Tywin Lannister. The Lannister's will finally have what they've really wanted all along – control of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Tywin is the one who ordered Gregor Clegane to slaughter our sister and her two young children," Doran explained. "And for that, there is no forgiveness. We cannot sit back and allow House Lannister to take control of the Iron Throne."

"How would you prevent it?" Sir Arthur asked.

"We would not reveal anything to you now," Oberyn replied. "Suffice it to say that much is happening on Essos that may play into our favor. In the meantime, it seems we should get to know you better," he added, looking directly at Jon. "You will continue your training here, at Sunspear. You will continue to use the name Jon Sand and keep your true identity hidden until the time is right, if it ever is."

"If you should ascend to the Iron Throne someday," Prince Doran added, "you will marry my daughter Arianne Martell and make her your queen. If you do not become king, there will be no betrothal."

"You must prove yourself worthy, Jon Sand," Oberyn continued. "Worthy of Arianne and worthy of Dorne's support."

"Where Jon goes, I go," Sir Arthur stated.

"As you wish," Oberyn waved his hand. "You and Ashara may stay at court or go home to Starfall, but Jon Sand stays."

Ashara had a feeling they would not let Jon go home and it was as she feared. "May I come and go as I please? I have duties at home, but I want to visit Jon as well."

"Of course, my Lady," Doran replied. "Rest assured he will be training with other royal children and treated very well."

Everyone had been discussing his future, and Jon was beginning to feel as if he was not in the room. "What if I don't want to be a king?" he finally asked.

They all sat silent a moment, looking Jon over. Sir Arthur then spoke. "Jon, I don't think you fully realize yet all that your parents went through to bring you into this world. Your father joined the battle so that he could give his children a legacy to inherit, so that you could have a chance to live. Your mother died giving birth to you. _You_ were their last hope for the realm. Ashara, Ned Stark, and I have spent our lives protecting you so that you could one day become the man you were meant to be. And now the Princes of Dorne have offered their aid."

"We understand that being a Targaryen is new to you," Ashara added. "In time, you will see the importance of your heritage. Learn all that you can, and your true path will reveal itself to you."

"Wise words, my Lady," Doran stated. He turned his focus on Jon. "It will be fascinating to see which kind of dragon you will truly become."

OOOOO

Jon couldn't sleep that night, despite his soft bed in the guest quarters. He feigned sleep, waiting for Arthur and Ashara to fall into deep slumber, before he climbed out of the window and snuck stealthily about the garden grounds. He joined behind a group of people walking behind a supply wagon and pretended he was one of them so he could get past the palace guard at the gate. None of them really knew who he was yet, so they did not seem to care.

He followed the main road back to the waterfront, boarding the _Dawn Chaser_. He needed someone to talk to and the only person he could trust was his best friend, Harran. When he reached the compartment where he and Harran had slept on the voyage there, he found his friend fast asleep. Jon turned the flame up on the lantern, bringing more light into the small room.

He pushed on his friend's shoulder. "Harran, wake up."

Harran groggily turned over, peering at Jon. "Jon?"

"Yes, wake up," he said while seating himself nearby. "We need to talk."

Harran sat up, pushing his hair back from his face with his fingers. The ship creaked and groaned as it gently rocked. "What did the Prince want?" Harran asked.

"I will tell you. But first I want to know about those girls who were talking to you earlier. What did they want?"

"They were Oberyn's bastard daughters and they just wanted to know about us and why we were here. I said we were summoned by the Prince.," Harran explained. "I think they wanted to lay with me," Harran grinned.

"Are you serious?" Jon asked, surprised.

"No, I'm not," Harran laughed. "They seemed very arrogant. Now what is your news? Are you finally going to tell me what is going on?"

"I'm not suppose to tell anyone, but I know you'll keep my secrets. We've always kept each other's secrets, and right now you are the only person I can trust."

"What about your mother and your uncle?" Harran asked. He knew Jon had always been close to his family, but there was some sort of tension the last few days.

Jon looked down at the floor and shook his head. "Not right now. They both kept something from me my whole life. I'm finding it hard not to be angry with them, though, I suppose, they thought they were protecting me."

"Go on, my brother, tell me," Harran encouraged. "I swear I will not repeat it to anyone."

Jon nodded. "I know you won't."

And he did. He told Harran everything that Ashara and Arthur told him that night on the ship and then he told of the Princes of Dorne and what had been decided. Harran listened quietly. Only his facial expressions told Jon of his surprise. When Jon was finished talking, they were silent a few moments.

Jon finally said, "Well… say something, Harran. Lack of speech has never been your problem before."

"I don't know what to say. Am I supposed to bow to you or something?"

Jon screwed up his face. "Of course not! Remember, we can't let anyone know."

"Yes, your Grace," Harran smiled, unable to resist his serious friend's lack of humor. "I can't believe I'm sitting with the crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms."

A hard fist landed on Harran's shoulder, causing him to wince in pain and laugh at the same time. "You are an ass, Harran. I will stop telling you anything from now on." But Jon was half smiling as well. He knew his friend's sense of humor well.

"I don't care what you are – Targaryen, Dayne, Stark, or Sand," Harran said, "you are my brother and I will always be on your side, whatever side that is." Harran stuck his hand out for their special handshake. "Brother's forever."

"Brother's forever," Jon repeated, shaking his hand. It was an oath they'd been saying since they were five. And for that moment, Jon felt a little bit of normalcy had been restored to his life.

"Now," Harran said, lying back down with his hands behind his head, "tell me everything about this beautiful harp player."

OOOOO

Lord Varys, the Secret Keeper of Robert Baratheon's realm, stood in his chambers holding the tiny roll of parchment he had taken from the raven's leg just moments ago. The news had astounded him to the point that he couldn't decide what to do next.

He walked to his window and looked in the direction of Ned Stark's home in King's Landing. Candles still lit the room Ned used as his office and Varys knew the Hand of the King was probably awake working on his research he'd been obsessed with lately.

All these years Ned Stark had been hiding such a secret as this and doing it quite well he might add. Robert's own Hand, hiding a Targaryen prince! Varys began to perspire, and he started to pace. Oh, dear, what should he do?

There were so many layers of conspiracy happening already, that adding this on top of it… well, he just wasn't prepared. All this time he had kept track of the two Targaryen children wandering around Essos, watching to see what kind of adults they would become, if they would prove worthy. Even Targaryen supporters did not want another mad king.

Varys knew those three blond children of Cercei's belonged to her own twin brother and not King Robert. He also knew that it was only a matter of time before Lord Stark figured it out as well. But did Ned Stark have another reason to discredit Robert's heirs? Could this be it?

Varys sat down, pouring himself a glass of wine and swallowing it down quickly. By the Gods, if Robert's most trusted friend was really a Targaryen supporter… how expertly he had us all fooled.

This newest Targaryen, this Jon, would be Rhaegar's son. Rhaegar Targaryen, whom was widely favored to be king before his death, had impressed Varys as well. He remembered hoping Aerys would die so that his more competent and level-headed son could take over. But instead they got Robert, and Varys had to resign himself to tempering the new impetuous king as much as he could.

Varys wondered what this Jon would be like. He was half Stark and half Targaryen – a very potent combination. He could only hope that the boy took on the best qualities of both. This would warrant much further covert research.

Varys shook his head. Who was he fooling? He would never tell anyone here at King's Landing that Targaryen crown prince lived. Ned Stark would lose his head and he rather liked the man. Lord Stark was good for the realm and for King Robert. If Robert knew of Ned's duplicity, it would surely send him over the edge. Varys did not want to experience Robert's wrath in the wake of such a revelation.

And besides, he really wanted to see if this prince would prove worthy.

Varys lifted the parchment to the flame of a candle on his table and watched it burn.

OOOOO

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know your thoughts. Until next time…


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you for all the responses to this story. I have been rediscovering my love of writing lately after a long break. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 6

Two months had passed at Sunspear. Two months of daily training in swordsmanship, archery, hand-to-hand combat, tracking, fighting on horseback, and, of course, fighting and hunting with spears. Jon worked harder than he had ever done so before, and he wasn't alone. He had convinced the Martells to allow Harran to train with him which made the long days much more enjoyable. Doran's son, Trystane, along with Oberyn's three oldest daughters – Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene also trained with Jon and Harran.

Trystane was a few years younger than Jon, kind and even-tempered. He was determined to keep up with the older boys and so worked very hard. The girls, however, were a different matter altogether. They were extremely competitive, especially with Jon and Harran, but also with one another. Every day they taunted and teased the boys, trying to best them. But Jon had grown use to their harsh banter and began to treat it as his entertainment. It infuriated them that they couldn't seem to get under Jon's skin, no matter how hard they tried, and after about a month they began to develop a sort of competitive respect for him.

Harran, however, loved to take the bait on purpose. When the girls teased with crude sexual innuendo, Harran would give the same to them. This would usually result in physical sparring in which the training masters would eventually have to break apart.

After the first three weeks of their stay, Lady Ashara returned to Starfall, but Sir Arthur was never far, sometimes joining in the training or assisting the various masters. He was careful not to embarrass Jon by appearing to be an over-protective uncle, and as the weeks wore on they both began to see that the Martells had been true to their word by treating them like welcomed guests. Sir Arthur was a favorite at court, drawing the attentions of various ladies. His fame, mystery and dangerous demeanor only added to his sex appeal. Even the way he turned his back on most offers in order to spend time with his sister's bastard son made females want him even more.

Jon flourished under the tutelage of the various masters the Martells had employed to train their children. He grew leaner and stronger, stealthier, deadlier. Oftentimes Oberyn and Doran would come to watch them train, complementing various students for a job well done or offering suggestions for improvement.

Jon's favorite training exercises were the nights they spent tracking one another. Half the group would lose themselves in the city, trying not to be seen and leaving no trace. The other half would try to track them. It was training in stealth and intelligence as well as being great fun. The girls, otherwise known as Sand Snakes, knew the city inside-out which made the game easy for them when it came to hiding. It took Jon almost a whole month before he became proficient enough to find one of them on tracking night, as it was called. Part of his success was observing and keeping track of each girl's individual likes and dislikes, as well as the types of places they hid previously. He began to notice patterns in their thinking strategies which helped him predict where they might go.

The first time he found Nymeria, she was so furious she challenged him to a dual on the spot. She snapped her whip at him and Jon laughed as he circled around her with a spear in hand, predicting her moves. This made her even more furious. When the end of her whip wrapped around Jon's ankle he allowed her to pull him off his feet. He landed on his back, still laughing as she straddled him, pulling out her knife. But before she could move her knife hand closer to his throat, the Sword of the Morning came between them, appearing like a phantom out of thin air.

"You best not get too carried away, Lady Nym," came a deadly voice above her.

She glared at Sir Arthur and huffed out an angry breath before standing, her hands on her hips. Then she snarled at Jon, " _You_ are lucky your uncle was here."

"Uncle, I don't believe I was in any danger," Jon said, still amused. "She's just upset I found her."

Sir Arthur offered his hand, pulling Jon up from the ground. "You shouldn't goad her like that. Hot tempered people do stupid things. Oberyn has trained them to be ruthless."

"I'm not scared of them," Jon replied as they started walking back to their living quarters. "They are just trying to prove they do not need a man to protect them."

"And why do you suppose they want to do that?" Arthur asked. He always questioned Jon in this way, getting him to think deeper about people and their motives.

Jon stopped at a food vendor's cart, buying a plump sweet fruit. "Harran thinks it's because they want their father's approval. But I think there is more."

"Such as?"

Jon took a small knife out of his belt and cut the fruit in half, handing a part to Arthur. "Well, I think it's because of their mothers."

"What about their mothers?"

"They are protected by Oberyn in exchange for their bodies. The Sand Snakes don't want to have to trade their bodies for protection like their mothers do. They want to be able to protect themselves."

"Perhaps it is a little of both," Arthur nodded. "Come with me to the harbor tonight, Jon. Ashara's ship arrives soon."

"What do you think her urgent message is?" Jon asked.

They had received a raven from her a day ago, saying that she was leaving Starfall to come to them with news.

"I don't know, but something feels different. Even the Martells have been behind closed doors all day."

OOOOOO

In their guest quarters that night, Ashara, Arthur and Jon sat together, talking in low voices in case there were spies about. She told them how she had received an anonymous note from King's Landing and handed them the tiny scroll, her face pale with worry.

 _King Robert is dead. Ned Stark is in the dungeons of the Red Keep, accused of treason. Joffery has taken the throne. – A Friend._

"Who is this _friend_?" Arthur asked. "And why would they send this to Starfall?"

Ashara shook her head, not knowing. She was too worried about Ned to ponder anything else about the note. "Arthur, you know what the penalty for treason is?" She put her face in her hands. "The Lannisters will kill him," she sobbed, "because he told the truth."

"What truth?" Jon asked.

She handed them a letter Ned had written to her. She had received it a few days before the mysterious message. In it he had told her of his discovery. Cersei's children were not Robert's, but the result of an incestuous relationship with her brother, Jaime Lannister. Worst of all, Ned told Ashara that he was going to face Cersei with the truth to give her a chance to flee with her children.

"Cersei would rather execute Ned than give up power," Ashara said. "He doesn't deserve this!"

"The Lannister's day will come too," Arthur said with conviction. "They will not have the throne long."

Jon sat back in his chair, absorbing the news. "He is dead. The one who killed my father is dead. That is good. I hope he suffered."

"But now you will lose your uncle too," Ashara wept, "and I will lose my dear Ned."

Jon turned, putting an arm around her. "I am sorry, mother. Do you truly love him?" He had never seen her so upset about anyone before. He looked to Arthur. "There must be something we could do?"

Arthur shook his head. "You are far from ready to take Kings Landing, Jon. This will surely cause unrest in the North, most likely war. I'm sure Tywin Lannister knows he must tread carefully."

None of them could sleep that night. Jon paced around his room, hating to see his mother so upset. He felt so useless and unable to do anything, despite all his hard training. He felt like a caged animal needing to be released.

He stepped out on his balcony to breath the cool night air and then he saw _her_.

Arianne.

She was standing in the little grove of Jasmine not twenty steps away and she was looking straight at him. Jon had been somewhat avoiding her since he had found out that his beautiful harp player was in fact Princess Arianne, his possible intended. He felt tongue-tied every time he saw her and didn't want to make a fool out of himself by attempting a conversation. He had no idea why he couldn't think a logical thought when she was around. He'd never had trouble speaking to other girls.

Now that she saw him, he couldn't just turn away, so he bowed and said, "Good evening, Princess. It's late for a stroll." Every word he said to her he wanted to punch himself for it, wondering if he sounded like an idiot to her.

She stepped closer. "I couldn't sleep."

"Nor I," Jon replied. "Does walking help?"

She smiled and let out a small laugh. "I hope so."

Jon couldn't help but smile back, even though he felt like an idiot. He was glad Harran wasn't here to see him making a fool of himself over a girl.

"I have watched you train, Jon Sand. You are quite skilled," she said. "What do you hope to accomplish here? Are you to be the next General of Dorne's army?"

Jon realized she didn't know who he was. To her, he was Lady Dayne's bastard son. "That would indeed be a noble calling. Truthfully, I don't know what I'll become."

"What do you want from life?" she asked.

Jon thought for a moment. "I want my family to be happy and safe." And suddenly Jon thought of Ned Stark, sitting in a cold dungeon, his family worried and grieved. His family would be Jon's family too, wouldn't it? He was half Stark after all.

"Then you must make it so," Arianne replied, giving him one last smile before walking away.

Jon watched her elegant figure walking away until she turned a corner and was no longer in sight. Then he gazed up at the moon – the same moon that was shining down on King's Landing tonight.

"You're right. I must make it so," he said aloud.

OOOOOO

The next morning, Jon met Harran and the royal offspring in the training yard as usual. Sir Arthur hadn't come with him that morning as Jon insisted that he stay with Ashara and see to her wellbeing. The arms master was late, and they stood around waiting.

Jon knew this was his opportunity to hatch the plan he'd been working on all night. He walked to the center of the group and cleared his throat. "How would you like to put our training to a real test?" he asked them.

Obara rolled her eyes. "What kind of test?"

But everyone could see that Jon was different today. He seemed serious and impatient. Something was had happened and they were more than curious.

"What did you have in mind?" Harran asked.

"We take Trystane's ship and sail to King's Landing. Then, we rescue Ned Stark from the dungeon of the Red Keep."

Everyone stared at Jon a few moments with various expressions of doubt on their faces.

"Why is Ned Stark in the dungeon?" Nymeria asked. "And how would you know that?"

"My mother received a letter. King Robert is dead and Ned Stark is in the dungeon for treason."

"King Robert is dead?" Nymeria repeated. She looked toward the palace. "Is that why everyone is acting so strange and our training master is not here?"

"Most likely, yes," Jon nodded. "And would you like to hear the worst part? The worst part is the Lannisters are taking power," Jon added as extra incentive.

"The Lannisters!" Obara said, spitting in the sand with hate. "Curse the Lannisters!"

"Ned Stark is family and I have to try to save him," Jon announced. "I will go no matter what all of you decide. But, it would be much easier if I had help."

Harran stepped forward. "You know I am with you."

Jon nodded in gratitude.

The Sand Snakes looked at one another and Tyene said with a mischievous look in her eyes. "A rescue? This would be very exciting, would it not?"

"Exciting and dangerous," Obara grinned.

"Let's do this," Nymeria nodded, unable to resist a chance to test her skill.

They all turned their heads to Trystane as the plan included his ship and so hinged on his agreement.

"Of course, I'm in," Trystane said. "But don't tell my father or he won't let us go."

Jon nodded. "We must tell no one."

The six of huddled close together as Jon put the tip of his sword in the ground and his hand on the top of the hilt. They all stacked a hand onto the hilt above Jon's.

Jon glanced at each of their faces in turn. "Yesterday we were competitors. Today we are brothers and sisters in arms. Go gather your weapons and dress for stealth. Tell no one where we go. Meet on Trystane's ship within the hour and we'll leave. This mission will be the true test of all we have learned."

"But they will soon come look for us if we are not in the training yard," Trystane said.

Harran looked to the palace and pointed. "I don't think they will notice for a while." People were gathered about in small groups, discussing the news of King Robert's death. The Martells must have gotten a raven of the announcement. This would be the perfect opportunity to leave while everyone was distracted.

OOOOOO

Sir Arthur left his sister resting in her quarters and strode through the palace grounds on his way to find Jon. Everyone one at court was out of their rooms, gathered together and chattering about the King's death and the Lannisters. There was talk of who should succeed – Stannis, Renley or Joffery. Everyone had their opinions on the matter.

Arthur walked past them all to the training grounds, but the students were no where in sight. He supposed it wouldn't be a very normal day because of the news, but it still made him nervous to have Jon out of sight, especially when the Martells knew who he was and the crown was being contested at the moment.

He turned and went into the palace, looking for the Princes of Dorne or one of the training masters. He spotted Princess Arianne Martell standing outside the door of the solar, listening in. Arthur bowed before her.

"Princess," he began, "have you seen my nephew about? No one is training in the yard."

"No, Sir Arthur, I have not," she replied. "Most likely there will be no training today."

Arthur searched everywhere, he even foraged out to the city taverns to see if they went to celebrate their freedom. He was growing more and more frustrated as the hours went by. He checked the royal stables to see if Jon's horse was missing, but it wasn't. By mid afternoon he found himself at the harbor, asking about Jon, Harran and even the Sand Snakes. It was there he found the harbor master and some answers.

"I noticed Prince Trystane sailed away with his friends this morning. He loves to sail. I'm sure they'll be back before nightfall," the harbor master said.

"Which direction did they go?" Sir Arthur asked.

"North, I believe."

Arthur looked over the ocean to the north. He desperately hoped this was a leisure day out on the water, but he had a nagging feeling inside that Jon was heading to King's Landing. If that was the case, the Martells would be furious with him for risking Trystane's life. Arthur felt he had to fix this before anything bad happened.

He turned to the harbor master. "I need a fast vessel and someone that can help me catch up with the Prince. This is a most urgent matter."

"I will see what I can do, Sir Arthur."

OOOOOO

They all sat below deck, talking of their plans. They had sailed the ship all the way into Blackwater Bay, staying far enough off shore to avoid notice. The anchor was down, and they tensely waited for dark while discussing their plan.

"The city looks large from here. How are we supposed to find the Red Keep?" Trystane asked.

" _You_ are not finding anything," Obara replied. " _You_ are staying on this ship. If anything happened to you, father would skin us alive."

"The Red Keep will be that big building on the top of the hill," Jon said. "I've read about this place. Tonight, we go ashore away from the busy harbor. Remember everything we learned about moving unseen about the city. We did it at Sunspear, we can do it here. Groups attract attention, so keep distance from one another, but not out of sight. Keep the hood of your cloaks on and if you are questioned by anyone, say you are the son or daughter of Dornish merchant. Our first goal will be to find an outside entrance to the dungeon at the bottom of the keep."

"Then we kill the guards?" Nymeria asked with excitement in her eyes.

Jon frowned at her. "We watch and find out which guard holds the keys. Then we need a way to get him distracted and separated from the others."

"I can distract him," Tyene smiled, pulling her tunic a bit off her shoulder and smiling alluringly. "When we get him alone, do we kill him?"

None of them had actually killed anyone before, but it seemed some of them were anxious to do so. Jon glanced at Harran. "If it is necessary. But we can't make a scene and draw attention. That is the most important thing. We want to get into the dungeon, get Lord Stark, and leave as soon as possible with the least amount of people seeing us."

"Maybe," Harran pondered, "it is best if we make a distraction in another part of the city, so that the majority of guards leave the Red Keep to attend to it. Then there will be less of them to deal with."

Obara sighed in exasperation. "No, there will be _more_ of them to deal with. They will ring the bell and all the sleeping soldiers will be awake too."

"She's right," Jon agreed, "we must be like assassins and not warriors tonight. We are few and they are many. Any other ideas?"

Tyene stood up quickly. "Oh, I know! Wait here." She hurried to her satchel on the other side of the cabin and pulled out a long, thin, piece of wood, that looked like a long pipe with no bowl. Then she took out small wooden box and came back to the group.

"What's that?" Harran asked.

"A skill that my mother taught me," Tyene replied. She opened the wooden box and Jon saw what looked like small sharp thorns. Also in the box was a small vial which Tyene held up and smiled. "Poison," she said. "I blow these poison thorns into their skin. I took the deadliest poison from my mother's cabinet. They will die within a few minutes. Their throats will swell first, so they won't be able to yell for help."

They were all impressed with the seeming ease of that plan. It would be quiet and quick – just what Jon wanted.

"You are skilled with this?" Jon asked.

Tyene nodded. "I have practiced my aim a lot. It was the first weapon I could use. But, I've never put poison on the thorns before this night."

"Then tonight we are truly assassins," Jon nodded.

OOOOO

A/N: My longest chapter yet. It was originally a third shorter, but I kept going back to revise it and I'm very excited to write the next chapter as well. Hope you are enjoying it. Please let me know your thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you for all your responses to this story. Your enthusiasm fuels mine and I greatly appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 7

Before Arthur left on the small sailing vessel which the harbor master procured for him, he had sent a message to the palace for Ashara explaining his suspicions and that she tell Doran that he was on his way to waylay the children before they met with danger.

He and the owner of the small boat had sailed at breakneck speed all afternoon and into the evening, fortunate that the wind was in their favor. When they finally reached Blackwater Bay, it was dark. They hugged the shore as they moved silently, searching for Prince Trystane's boat.

Passing the city, Arthur couldn't help the memories that came flooding back. It had been a long time since he had stepped foot in King's Landing. Aerys was King back then. And since Rhaegar's death, he had vowed he'd never come to King's Landing again until Jon was ready to take his crown. But the present circumstances had forced him to break this vow.

As long as he remained at Starfall, Robert Baratheon did not care if Ser Arthur Dayne decided to go into seclusion instead of returning to swear fealty to him. Ned Stark had returned to King's Landing with Lyanna's body and told Robert that Ser Arthur was too injured to be of any further use to the crown. Though it was true at the time, it was no longer the case. Hard work and the determination to be Jon's protector had brought Ser Arthur back to peak condition.

But being Jon's protector was proving to be a challenge now that Jon was beginning to take his life in his own hands. The boy didn't quite understand the importance of who he was yet. That Jon would leave without telling him confirmed Arthur's suspicion that Jon was doing something he knew Arthur would greatly disapprove of. Yet, though this foolish and dangerous scheme made him angry, he couldn't help feeling secret pride that Jon took fate into his own hands and was able to inspire others to help him do it.

"There," Arthur pointed when he spotted the Prince's vessel. So, his suspicion was right – they were here in King's Landing. He wasn't happy about being right, however, far from it. "Pull alongside it," he commanded.

It wasn't long until Prince Trystane came out with his bow and arrow pointed at them. "I suggest you move on," he called out.

"I've been searching for you, my Prince," Arthur replied.

Trystane squinted in the dark, only the small torchlight from his ship illuminated the night. "Ser Arthur? How did you know?" he asked, baffled and lowering his bow.

"Just a hunch," Arthur replied. "Where are the others?"

Trystane sighed and said, "I'm sorry, but I cannot betray them."

"You do not need to betray them. I know where they've went," Arthur said before turning to the sailor. "Stay here with the Prince. If any strangers approach, sail further offshore. I'll signal you with a torch to approach again."

Arthur removed his boots and outer garments, bundling them up with his swords in his cloak. Holding the bundle over his head, he hopped off the boat and into the water. It was chest high and he carefully waded up and out of the water, quickly redressing himself once he was on the shore.

Then he stood and gazed up at the city walls, remembering all the secret ways in and out, ways he could avoid the notice of the guards. He knew this place well from his time as King's Guard and accompanying Rhaegar on all his escapades.

He pulled his cloak around him, covering his two swords and keeping his face turned at angles away from curious eyes. Dousing a few key torches, he moved unseen, knowing it would be a few minutes before the guards realized the torches were out. This was an old trick he learned, and it was still as effective as it had been back then. He wondered how Jon and the others managed to get in the city. Perhaps they were still trying to find a way in.

Arthur headed up the pathways and stairs that led to the hill of the Red Keep. He had the advantage over the children of knowing what side the dungeons were on and so he would wait for them there, if they hadn't already reached it. He carefully moved in the shadows, reaching a dark spot where he could observe the entrance to the dungeons without notice. There appeared to be only two guards on duty on either side of the door. A patrol, consisting of four guards, were circling the keep. Arthur knew it would take the patrol about 25 minutes to make one round.

He searched the darkness with his eyes and ears. He could detect no sign of Jon and the others having reached his spot. Arthur's eyes followed the warm glow coming from the windows of a tavern across the street. He hadn't eaten anything since that morning and his stomach growled in protest. It would be a good place to keep an eye on the dungeon door from across the street and get some food at the same time. Who knew how long it would take for Jon and the others to find their way here?

He entered the tavern, glad there was a free table by the window he needed, and sat. He ordered a bowl of hot stew and a warm loaf of bread with wine to wash it down. As he ate and kept watch, his eyes caught a shadow moving in a corner of the room, behind a barrel. He moved his head to the side a bit, noticing a young girl peeking around the barrel and ducking whenever the serving woman walked by. The girl appeared disheveled and hungry. Arthur guessed she was looking for scraps of food.

He remembered times past, when Rhaegar always seemed to attract a group of children following behind him whenever he went out into the streets of the city. They had loved the prince's generous nature as he most always entered a tavern with them in tow and called out, "Meals, meals for my friends!" He would give the proprietors a good amount of coin to feed hungry children.

Ashara was the same. She couldn't stand to see a child in need, fending for themselves on the streets. At Starfall, any child left parentless was taken under her care and grew to become a part of her loyal staff of servants.

His meanderings were cut short by the sound of a slap and the girl crying, "No, stop, please!" The serving woman had spotted the girl and was now beating her with her hand as the child cowered in the corner, trying to protect herself.

Arthur moved quickly, grabbing the wrist of the woman's arm in mid-strike. Her head turned quickly to Arthur, a look of anger and shock.

"Woman, you will not strike that child again," he hissed angrily.

"She's a thief! She's been coming around all week, stealing from the tables!"

Arthur threw her hand back towards her, making the woman stumble a bit. "She's my guest. Now, get her a bowl of stew and bring some more bread," he commanded.

The woman's face was puffed red with indignation, but she turned and went back to the kitchen. Arthur turned to the child in the corner and motioned with his hand. "Come, sit," he invited.

He sat back down in his seat and the girl cautiously moved toward the table, taking the bench across from him. He pushed his plate of bread toward her and nodded. "Go on," he invited.

She gazed at him with big eyes and then grabbed the loaf and hungrily gnawed on it. The woman returned with a bowl of stew and set it before the girl. The girl grabbed a spoon and began eating quickly, as if the bowl would be taken from her at any moment.

"Eat slower, child, you do not want a belly ache," Arthur said. "What is your name?"

"Ar…," she began, pausing a moment and searching his face, her eyes wide with caution. "Ari," she finished.

"Ari," he repeated, nodding. "Where are your parents, Ari?"

The girl looked about at the other patrons who were busy with their own conversations. Then she said, "My mother's far away and my father is…" She stopped herself, looking down at her food, face stricken.

Arthur could tell something bad must have happened to her father, leaving her to fend for herself. He didn't want to make her cry, so he didn't press on that topic.

"Where does your mother live?" he asked instead.

"In the north," Ari replied between bites.

"Would she be happy to see you?"

Ari nodded. "Yes."

"If I gave you coin enough to buy passage to White Harbor, would you be able to find your mother from there?"

Ari gazed at him a few moments as if assessing his offer. She glanced out the window toward the keep and then nodded, "Yes, I think so."

He took some coins and placed them by her bowl. She quickly grabbed them, making sure no one was watching the exchange, and tucked them into her tunic.

"You should leave tomorrow," he added. "This place is not safe for a child all alone. War is coming." He knew it wouldn't be long before Stannis or Renly attacked King's Landing, not to mention Ned Stark's eldest son. Word was the young wolf had called the banners when he heard his father was imprisoned.

She nodded and muttered a 'thank you'.

When the serving woman returned, Ser Arthur paid her and added, "Give her a bath and let her sleep by your hearth tonight."

OOOOOO

The five companions had situated themselves on various rooftops across the road from the Red Keep, observing the movements of the guards. The moon was high when they had finally found the right place - a door on the side of the keep guarded by two guards. Observing for the last hour, they had decided to wait until the deadest part of the night, about three hours before dawn, to carry out their plan. The guards would be at their sleepiest, and the city streets would be empty.

When the time was ripe, and the patrol circling the keep had just moved out of sight, they climbed off the roof they were on, and moved carefully in the shadows of a side alley. A small child stepped in their path and Obara hissed, "Go away!" The child ran off, scared.

"What if he tells someone?" Nymeria whispered.

"We are not harming children," Jon whispered back. "Let's carry out our plan and we'll be gone soon enough."

They all turned to Tyene. It was decided earlier that her poison thorns were the quickest way to proceed. But now that the time came, the reality of what they were about to do hit them. The poison would kill.

"Are you certain you want to do this?" Jon asked.

Tyene straightened her shoulders and said, "Of course."

Jon glanced at Harran who met his gaze with an unsure one of his own. Jon had to remind himself that if these same guards knew a Targaryen was standing before them, they would try to kill him. Therefore, they were the enemy, weren't they?

Jon nodded at Tyene and said, "Good luck."

Tyene moved quietly along the wall of the keep. The guards were leaning against the wall on either side of the door, appearing to doze off. It must have been the hardest shift of the day, trying to stay awake during the dead of the night. When she was about twenty feet away, she blew her first thorn, hitting the guard on the side of his face. He slapped his face, thinking he had been bitten by an insect, before he fell to his knees, grabbing at his throat while wheezing.

The other guard turned to him and said, "What's this?" Tyene blew her second thorn at that moment, hitting the second guard on the chin. Then she pressed herself against the wall and watched as they writhed on the ground, trying to find a breath. The others came then, watching the men die. It wasn't as gratifying as they had thought it would be.

Jon looked for only a moment before kneeling next to the guards, reaching for the ring of keys one of them wore on his belt. He avoided looking at the red, puffy face of the dying man. Harran had already stuck two of their spears in the ground next to the wall. When Jon had the keys, they all helped lift the dead men so that the spears held them up under the backs of their shirts. This way, the patrol would still see two sleepy guards outside the door to the dungeons when they next passed.

"Hurry," Obara whispered, as Jon was trying various keys on the lock. The patrol would soon be back around to this area and they needed to be inside.

When the door clicked open, Harran stepped in first, bow ready. Nymeria had grabbed a torch from outside and followed him. No one was in the corridor this time of night, which was a stroke of luck for them. They all entered and shut the door behind them.

Jon made the quiet signal and they began peering through the peek holes of the dungeon doors. The cells were dark and there was no way to tell if they had a prisoner in them without entering with a torch. Jon began unlocking them as everyone waiting impatiently and Harran kept his arrow notched for trouble.

The first two contained half-dead men, chained to the wall and unable to rouse themselves when Jon passed the torchlight over them. They did not look like the Lord Stark he remembered. In the third cell he entered, however, a man sat slumped against the cold stone wall in chains, light shaggy hair fell forward over his features.

Jon moved tentatively closer with the torch and the man raised his face, squinting in the firelight.

"Lord Stark?" Jon said.

"What do you want?" he asked. Then he noticed the two Dornish girls behind Jon and a third at the door, keeping watch. He sat up straighter.

"Jon?" Ned Stark said, appearing perplexed. "How are you here?"

"We've come to rescue you," Jon said, handing the torch to Obara and kneeling next to Ned, trying the keys on his chains.

Ned studied Jon's face, realizing it was really him. "Why? Why would you do something so dangerous?"

Jon's eyes rose to meet Ned's. "For the mother I love, and for the mother I never knew."

Ned sucked in a breath. "You know?"

Jon nodded. "Yes, I know."

"You shouldn't be here. It's too dangerous. Where is Ser Arthur?"

The chains fell off as Jon found the right key and he stood, holding a hand out to Ned to help him stand. "Probably not very happy with me at the moment," Jon replied. "But I couldn't leave your fate to the Lannisters. We must hurry."

They entered the corridor and Harran handed Ned a cloak. "Put this on, Lord Stark. We cannot have them recognize you on the street." Ned slipped it on and put the hood up while they hurried to the outside door. Harran held his hand up, halting the group while he carefully opened the door a crack, peeking to see if the patrol was on this side of the keep.

They waited, listening for sounds of people outside. It was dead quiet, and Harran signaled them to follow. Once they were all outside the door, they met with a most grisly sight of dead bodies, severed heads and much blood. Standing in the middle of it all stood a hooded man, holding two swords crossed over his chest, blood dripping down the blades onto his hands.

Jon knew those swords, and that stance. "Uncle?" he said, incredulously, "What have you done?"

"You were in danger, so I did my duty. This is who I am," Ser Arthur spoke, more serious than Jon had ever known him to be.

 _Kingsguard._ The word went unspoken, but Jon and Ned knew exactly what Ser Arthur was alluding to.

It was Ned who finally roused them out of their shock. "We must hide the bodies. Put them inside the door."

They all helped drag the remains of the patrol through the dungeon door, before closing it and hurrying off to a dark side alley. Jon halted the group and said to Ned, "We have a boat waiting outside the city."

"I cannot leave without my daughters," Ned spoke.

They all stared at him a moment. They hadn't planned on this at all. "We must leave before dawn," Tyene reminded. "They will see the boat if we don't leave before it's light."

"Jon, this is your venture. Decide the next step," Ser Arthur spoke. This was the leadership role he'd been grooming Jon for his whole life. A role in which he would have to decide whether he'd take risks with the lives of others and accept the consequences.

Jon gazed about the group and then at Arthur and said, "Lord Stark is right. We cannot leave his daughters." They would be Jon's kin, too, and he was intent on taking care of the only family he had left. Surprisingly, Arthur seemed to understand Jon's reasoning as he gave a nod of agreement. Or perhaps he was just obeying. Jon wasn't sure which.

"Where are they, Lord Stark? We have less than two hours before dawn," Arthur stated.

"Lord Varys told me they moved Sansa to the Red Keep. And Arya… I know not. No one can find her. She must be hiding in the city," Ned replied.

"Arya, you say?" Arthur said. "I met a child who looked about ten summers old, brown hair, who called herself Ari."

Ned stepped forward. "Where was she?"

"The tavern up the street. She should still be there sleeping by the hearth," Arthur replied.

Ned began to move onto the street, but Ser Arthur pulled his arm back. "Wait, you cannot go. You are too well known in this city. We will get her. Tyene will take you back to the boat and you must wait for us to return with your daughters."

"How will you get Sansa without being detected?" Ned asked. "There will be guards to deal with in the Red Keep."

"You forget that I use to live in the keep, Lord Stark, and following Prince Rhaegar about I know all the secret ways in and out," Ser Arthur replied. "I will find her."

"I will go with you," Jon said.

"No," Arthur replied. "It is easier for me to slip in unnoticed alone. The rest of you will get Arya and bring her to the boat. Go in through the back of the tavern where the kitchen is. She should be there by the fire. Don't make noise and get caught."

Ned clasped Ser Arthur's arm. "I don't know how to thank you for this risk you take."

"Jon will not leave without her and I will not leave without Jon," Arthur replied.

Jon stepped forward. "Be careful, uncle," he said, with concern. "If you get caught, I will have to come after you."

Arthur tilted his head, knowing Jon meant every word. Jon loved him like a father and Arthur loved him like a son. None of that had to be said. It was plain. "May the Gods be with us," Arthur said, turning on his heel and disappearing into the night.

OOOOO

A/N: Ned is free, but will he have his daughters back? You'll find out next time. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know your thoughts. Until next time…


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you to everyone responding to and enjoying this fiction. I appreciate all your feedback.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and I make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 8

A light knocking sound awoke Lord Varys from slumber. He turned on his bed, squinting in the dark. The noise was coming from behind the wooden panel on his wall, the panel that concealed one of the many hidden passageways in the Red Keep.

He got up and made his way across the room, moving a small table to the side so he could open the wall panel. Only when the news was urgent did his little birds use this panel. He motioned for the small boy to come into his room and bent low so he could hear his whispers.

Eyes wide, Varys stood and went swiftly to his window. From here he could see the alley below and the small courtyard in front of the dungeon entrance. A man was surrounded by the guard patrol, a sword in each hand. One man was already dead on the ground, his head severed from his body. As the swordsman moved gracefully, he cut down the remaining three quickly and in turn.

Varys recognized him from so very long ago. He knew of only one man that could wield two swords as if they were merely extensions of his own arms – Ser Arthur Dayne. But, what on Earth did he think he was doing here?

Suddenly, the dungeon door opened, and more hooded figures stepped out. As they all got to work stuffing the bodies through the door, Varys realized that Lord Stark was being rescued and he couldn't help but feel a bit of happiness about it. Queen Cersei would be furious in the morning, but Varys couldn't care less if she was. He certainly didn't plan on telling her anything he saw tonight.

And besides, one of those hooded figures was most likely Rhaegar's son and Varys did not want to put him in further danger. It was foolish to come here, but brave. Varys pressed himself against the wall as he watched, in case any of them happened to look up. After they had cleared the bodies, the group disappeared into a dark alley. It was the dead of night and Varys could detect no one else about at this hour.

Then Ser Arthur came back into view, slipping quietly towards the bottom of the keep. Varys watched until he could no longer see him from his vantage point. What was he doing now?

Varys couldn't entertain that Dayne would be foolish enough to try to kill Joffery. So, what else could he want? Then he knew – Lady Sansa, of course. Ned Stark would not leave her at the mercy of the Lannisters and wisely so. Varys went to his table and wrote a quick note. Then he hurried to the little bird waiting by the panel and whispered instructions in his ear. The boy nodded and scurried back through the wall before Varys concealed the passageway once again.

OOOOO

Jon had sent Harran with Tyene to escort Lord Stark back to the boat and now he stood with Nymeria and Obara behind the tavern, peering in the kitchen window. If he craned his neck, he could barely see the figure of a child sleeping on the floor in front of the fire.

"We don't want to scare her," he whispered to his companions. "The last thing we want is to wake everyone with screaming or have to chase her if she should run."

"We are strangers. Of course she will scream and run," Obara replied. "The only way to do this is to capture her before she wakes and bind her."

"She is my cousin!" Jon hissed. "I won't allow her to be roughly handled."

"Cousin? I thought she was your sister. Aren't you Lord Stark's bastard?"

"I will explain later," Jon said.

Nymeria rolled her eyes. "My sister is right. There is no time to reason with a scared child. We must take her quickly and leave before the city wakes. She will forgive us when she is reunited with her father."

"We will only do so if necessary," Jon replied. "Tread quietly. Obara, hold her legs. Nymeria will cover her mouth, and I will hold her arms."

The sisters nodded and Jon quietly opened the door latch. They inched forward into the kitchen and toward the hearth with trained stealth. Then they knelt around Arya's sleeping figure.

Jon signaled and Nymeria covered her mouth with her hand, while Jon leaned over her and held her arms down. Obara took her ankles and held them.

Arya woke quickly, eyes growing wide as she struggled in their grasps.

"Shhhh…, Arya," Jon whispered. "We are not here to harm you. We are here to help you."

Arya was too startled to trust them, and she tried to move away but she couldn't free herself. She tried to bite Nymeria's hand, so the Sand Snake gather the corner of her cape and bunched the fabric over the child's mouth, pressing on the top of it.

"Listen to me," Jon said. "We have rescued your father. He waits for you on the boat. Do you wish to go to him?"

She looked at Jon, her struggles slowing and her eyes examining him. He could tell she was determining whether she could trust him.

He bent closer to her face. "Look at me, Arya. You may not know this yet, but we are kin. And I would never let anything bad happen to you."

Her eyes roamed his face, examining him further. Jon had been told he looked like a Stark and he was hoping she would see that too.

"I need you to trust me," he continued. "Either way, I am bringing you to your father as I promised him. But I'd prefer it if you came with us willingly. You do not want to be carried in one of those empty flour sacks, do you? It would not be the way I'd like to start our friendship."

Arya studied him a few moments longer, staring into his eyes. Then she nodded.

They slowly lifted her hands and she sprung to her feet, lunging for a butcher knife on the table.

Jon, Nymeria and Obara watched her as she stood with the knife in her hand, glaring at them.

"If you are lying, I'll cut you through," Arya threatened.

The Sand Snakes looked amused, but Jon nodded. "Fair enough. And after you are back with your father, we will see about your training with knives."

"How are you my kin?" she asked, still in her defensive stance.

"I will tell you after we are safely out of this city," Jon promised. "We must leave now."

Arya lowered her knife slowly and nodded.

OOOOO

Harran, Tyene and Lord Stark made their way quietly through the darkest alleys of King's Landing. Ned was glad to be outdoors again as he breathed the night air. The only thing that could have made this a truly happy occasion, however, was if his daughters were here by his side.

They passed the closed shops and homes along the way with only the sound of a light breeze making the shop signs waver and squeak. When they were passing the armor smith shop, Ned paused, staring at the front door.

Harran turned around and said, "Lord Stark?"

Ned sighed and said, "I have a favor to ask of you."

Tyene and Harran glanced at one another. "What is it?" Tyene asked.

"In this smithy works an apprentice by the name of Gendry. I need you to tell him he's in danger and he needs to leave King's Landing immediately. Tell him to head North. There will be a job waiting for him at Winterfell."

"We really shouldn't stop," Tyene said. "Who is this Gendry to you?"

Ned really didn't want to say he was Robert's bastard as he knew the Dornish hated Robert. He only shook his head and said, "He's a bastard."

"You have another bastard?" Tyene asked.

Harran and Ned stared at her a moment before realizing that she still believed the rumor that Jon was Ned and Ashara's bastard son. If Jon hadn't trusted her enough to tell her the truth, then neither would Ned.

Harran, however, saved Ned from having to lie by interrupting. "I will talk to this Gendry for you. But you and Tyene must keep going."

Ned nodded and gave his thanks before continuing with Tyene. When they were out of sight, Harran knocked on the door of the smithy. He kept knocking until someone opened the door.

A dark-haired boy about his age stood with a large hammer in his hand and an angry look on his face. "We are closed. Come back in the morning." He was about to close the door again when Harran finally said.

"Wait! I need to speak to Gendry. This is very important."

The boy looked him up and down. "I'm Gendry. What do you want?"

"I have a message for you from Lord Stark. He said you must leave King's Landing immediately. You are in danger. If you go to Winterfell, you can find work there."

"Lord Stark is in the dungeon," Gendry replied.

"Is he?" Harran smiled. "Farewell, Gendry." He turned and disappeared into the dark of the alley.

OOOOOO

Sir Arthur pulled himself up the ladder below the bottom of the east tower of the Red Keep, one of the more complicated ways of entering the basement level. He was glad the ladder was still here, which probably meant others knew of it as well. The complicated part of it all was that the entrance began on a steep cliff face, which, if you weren't careful, you could easily lose your footing.

Once inside he waited a minute for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Feeling his way along the wall with one hand, he cautiously made his way toward the stone steps leading up. On his way, he ran into a hard, sharp object. Feeling it with his hand, he could make out the large, jagged teeth of an enormous jawbone.

He knew what it was – a dragon skull. As his eyes adjusted more, he could see the ghostly shadows of other dragon skulls – the ones that had adorned the throne room when he was last here. They were the symbols of Targaryen might and power and were now stored down here out of sight and mind.

Arthur patted the skull and whispered, "You will see the light again, my friends."

Arthur pulled up his hood and made his way up the curved stone steps, pressing himself close to the wall and treading lightly. Up higher he would have to pass the quarters of the King's Guard before he could enter the walkway between the towers. Lady Sansa would be a political prisoner, so he assumed she would be in one of the tower rooms and she would most likely have a guard in front of her door. Probably just one guard, Arthur assumed, as she was only a girl and could not likely overpower him.

The staircase curved around as he climbed, and the torches above made a shadow figure stretch along the wall – a shadow that was heading down the steps toward him. Arthur pressed himself against wall, waiting with his knife in hand. He reached out with his other hand and grasped the small arm of a child. Arthur pulled him into view, staring into his scared eyes.

The trembling child held out his hand with a small scroll in it. Arthur made the quiet sign and the child nodded before he took the scroll from him. The child continued down the stairs, disappearing in the dark of the basement.

Arthur unrolled the scroll and read in the firelight:

 _What you seek is in the North Tower. – A Friend._

Was this the same 'friend' that had written Ashara about Ned's plight? Sir Arthur wondered who this could be and, even more disconcerting, how did he know he was here at this moment. The use of the child messenger… perhaps he did know who it was. Interesting that the spider would want to help him. This could be useful in the future, Arthur thought as he shoved the parchment into his satchel. Right now, he had to keep focused on the task at hand.

Arthur had just passed the door to the King's Guard quarters, when it opened and a hooded figure in a plain brown cloak stepped out. Arthur had nowhere to hide, so he turned about, his hands crossed in front of him holding the hilt of each of his swords. The man looked up at him, a little startled at first and then grabbed his own sword. The sound of metal blades leaving their scabbards was the only thing heard as they faced off.

The man below him paused, observing Arthur's two swords at the ready. "By the Gods," the man spoke, "Ser Arthur? Is that you?"

Arthur looked at his face closer, the tone of the man's voice sparking memories. "Ser Barristan?" Indeed, it was. He was much older now, but it was the man he had once fought side by side with.

Arthur had always held Ser Barristan Selmy in the highest regard back then and he truly did not want to kill him now. But, he would do what he had to. Selmy had bent the knee to Robert Baratheon. Something Arthur would never do.

"What are you doing here?" Sir Barristan asked, sword at the ready. "I thought you were a cripple."

"Rumors of my injuries were greatly exaggerated," Arthur replied. "I am here for Lady Sansa. She is to go back to her family. I'm sorry that you had to awaken at this precise moment. I do not want to kill you, but I must complete my task."

Barristan Selmy studied Arthur's face and stance a few moments longer, then he sheathed his sword once again. "I cannot win against you, old friend. Strike me down if you must, but I am no longer a part of this realm. Joffery and the Queen have released me from service this very day. I am leaving King's Landing, whether through death or the door."

Arthur lowered his swords. "Released you? King's Guard is for life."

"Not with this King. Apparently, Cersei would rather have men willing to do dishonorable acts at her bidding, than uphold the standards we have always served under. Who's bidding are you doing, Ser Arthur? Have you become a mercenary?"

Arthur scoffed. "You would be surprised at the answer. Where do you go now?"

"Assuming you let me leave, I travel to Essos. I wish to see if Daenerys Targaryen is someone worth serving. If she is anything like Rhaegar, I will offer my services."

"Perhaps you do not have to look so far from home for a Targaryen to serve," Arthur said. "On your way to Essos, stop at Sunspear, Ser Barristan. You may find what you seek there. I must go about my business."

Arthur turned and hurried up the stairs. He had lingered too long with Selmy, but if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that the old knight was no liar. The Lannisters dishonored Ser Barristan by releasing him from his position he had rightly earned. He knew they would live to regret it – perhaps sooner than they could imagine.

He now had less than an hour before dawn and he hurried down the service corridors and past the kitchens. The sleepy-eyed bakers were already at work making the day's bread and didn't even spare a glance his way when he passed. They never did care as he remembered. Servants always assumed they were safe until an actual blade was drawn on them.

On he went to the North Tower of the keep, peering cautiously down each corridor as he climbed. Finally, he spotted a guard standing before a closed door. The dolt was leaning against the wall, dozing off. This would be too easy, thought Ser Arthur. He quietly walked up to the guard and stood in front of him. Making a fist, he hit the sleeping man so hard, his head smacked against the stone wall behind him. He gasped and slid down to the floor, unconscious.

Sir Arthur opened Lady Sansa's door with one hand while dragging the guard through with his other. Glancing at her bed, he could see no movement yet. She was still sleeping. He placed the guard inside and quietly closed the door.

Taking her cloak off it's hook, he moved toward the bed. Time was short. If she didn't believe his intentions were good, he'd have to take her by force.

The delicate redhead woke out of her slumber as Sir Arthur shook her arm. "My Lady," he whispered.

When she opened her eyes, she took a deep breath as if to scream, so he quickly covered her mouth with his hand. "Lady Sansa, please keep quiet."

Her eyes watered and she screamed a muffled noise against his hand. Arthur felt bad about this, but he had no time for niceties. "My Lady, I'm here to help you. Your father makes his escape. I'm here to take you to him."

She was grabbing at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away and pushing off the bed with her legs.

"Stop this," Arthur hissed, "or I'll be forced to bind you."

She continued her struggles a bit longer, exhausting herself. Arthur grabbed the sheets and began to wrap them around her struggling form. When she bit his fingers, he shoved a handful of fabric into her mouth while she managed to get one short scream through. "Forgive me, my Lady, but you are in the wrong." He held her down and looked into her eyes. "Do you not wish to see your father again? Your home? This is your only chance."

She was breathing hard on the fabric and weeping, but she ceased her struggles as she met his eyes.

When she had calmed, he said, "I'm going to let you speak, but if you scream, I will muffle you again." She nodded in response.

He slowly backed off, and she pulled the fabric from her mouth and rolled away to the other side of the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "How do I know I can trust you?" she asked, getting off the bed. "You are not one of my father's men."

"You have to put your faith in me. You have little choice. Do you wish to be a pawn of the Lannisters?"

"I will be Queen someday," she replied with a small voice. "I am betrothed to Joffery."

"Don't be a little fool," Sir Arthur replied, exasperated. "Your family is now at war with them. You will not find kindness here. Come quickly, there is little time left. Your father awaits you. Do you wish for him to get captured again because of your hesitation?"

"Is he truly free?" she asked, softly.

"Yes, now put your cloak on quickly and follow me. We must hurry before everyone wakes."

Arthur heard noise behind him and turned about. The guard he had hit was now standing and stumbling toward the door. Before Arthur could reach him, he had it opened and he let out a yell for help. He could yell no more, though, as a sword came through his neck from behind him. Arthur pulled his arm back and the man fell, gurgling his last breaths.

He strode quickly over to Sansa. "Forgive me, my Lady, but it will be faster if I carry you." She yelped as he bent and put her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Time had run out and he had no more time for manners. "Hang on and make no noise. I know a spot I can climb down from."

Sansa felt the blood rush to her face as she held on to his torso in this very undignified position. He was strong and fast as he moved down the corridor and out onto the battlements. When he climbed over she squeezed her eyes tight and held on to him, trembling. When he jumped the last four feet to the ground, she jolted against his shoulder, her breath taken from her. But he didn't pause, he kept moving as the sky was getting lighter with the rising sun.

When the city bell began to toll, she heard him curse and his grip on her tightened. All the gates would now be closed and heavily guarded, but Arthur knew of a service door to the outer wall which would have only six or seven guards, maybe less if he beat them to it. Once he got through, he would have a short time to get away before more patrols passed.

He ran now, Sansa bouncing on his shoulder. She gasped when he unceremoniously tossed her onto the ground and pulled out his two swords. The four guards standing between him and the gate looked unsure, their confidence quickly draining as they noticed the Sword of the Morning in his hand. "It can't be," she heard one of them say as he backed up a bit.

"It is," Ser Arthur replied, as he brought down the first strike. The soldiers tried to take him from all sides as Sansa scooted back on the ground, watching as he struck one man down after another. She had never seen anything like it. The sound of more soldiers coming around the keep and running toward them caught her attention and she scrambled to her feet, terrified.

"Run, Sansa," her deadly knight yelled at her. "Through the gate and to the shore. North along the shore you will find him."

He opened the gate for her quickly and she ran, looking back once to see him standing before the gate, his two swords crossed in front of him and ready to cut down the next group of soldiers. She stumbled a bit as she ran, frightened and trying to remember which direction to go. When she had reached the shore of Blackwater Bay, out of breath and scared, she desperately looked in all directions, deciding North had to be away from the city. She stumbled along the shore, stubbing her foot on exposed roots a few times and falling at one point.

Then she turned a bend and saw two small sailing vessels a little offshore. She hid behind a tree and peered at them. Her heart leapt when she recognized her father on the bow, looking over the shore, searching for her. She ran out from behind the tree, waving her arms and crying while she called out to him.

Ned spotted his daughter and leapt into the water, wading to shore. She ran into his arms and held him tight. "Father, father, you are really free."

He embraced her tightly and kissed the top of her head. "Yes, and so are you."

When she opened her eyes, she noticed Arya standing on one of the boats looking at them both. "You found Arya too."

"Yes," Ned replied. "It's time we go home. I've had enough of this place."

Sansa hugged him again. "Me too." She heard a splash as two boys jumped off the boat and came toward them. They were quite handsome, and Sansa felt a bit embarrassed to be seen in such a state as she was in. But they looked too worried to notice.

"Where is Ser Arthur?" the boy with the dark, curly hair asked her.

Sansa assumed they were talking about the one who rescued her. He had never introduced himself. "He stayed to fight the soldiers, so I can get away."

"The bell tolls, Jon," Ned said. "They know we are gone. We only have a short time before they come this way."

Jon looked up at the Red Keep in anguish. "I cannot leave him," he stated. "I will not!"

Ned put a hand on his shoulder. "Jon, he would not want you to put yourself in danger. Neither do I."

"Go now with your family on Prince Trystane's boat. Sail further offshore where you will be unseen. Harran and I will wait for Ser Arthur and take the second boat," Jon stated. "We will find you."

Ned knew there was no convincing him. "Do not wait too long. The soldiers will soon be here." He had to get his daughters to safety. Jon was young, but he was no longer a child, and Ned had no power over him. He could only pray that Jon would not do anything foolish.

Jon nodded. As soon as Ned and Sansa were on the boat, he took off down the shore toward King's Landing with Harran at his heels. "Hurry, Harran, he needs us."

OOOOOOO

A/N: There you have it. Hope you are still enjoying. As always, let me know your thoughts. Until next time…


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hello again and thank you for all your responses to this fiction. I hope you find this chapter satisfying. Happy reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 9

Ser Barristan Selmy watched Ser Arthur as he left him standing there, a cryptic message as his parting words. If he was still part of the King's Guard, he would have been obliged to stop Ser Arthur, even if it meant his life. Rescue Sansa Stark? Why are earth would that be important to Ser Arthur? What connection did he have with the Starks?

Barristan had no time to think more of it, however. He had wanted to leave the Red Keep before everyone was up and about for the day. He would head down to the harbor to find passage as quietly as possible. He slung his satchel over his shoulder and made his way up the stairs and through the empty halls.

Before he reached an exit, however, he was met with the anxious face of Lord Varys standing in his path, his hands clasped together under his overly long sleeves.

"Ser Barristan, a word please," the eunuch cajoled.

The old knight was growing frustrated at all the interruptions. "What do you want?"

"I know where you are headed, and I also know who you just spoke to on the stairs a moment ago," Varys said.

"Is there anyplace you do not have your children creeping around?" Barristan grumbled.

"It's my job to know everything," Varys replied, unapologetically.

"Are you off to tell the Queen? I can honestly say I no longer give a damn."

"I'm glad to hear that," Varys said. "Perhaps, then, I can convince you to give a damn about something else. Your old friend, Ser Arthur, may soon need your help."

"Stop being cryptic and tell me straight," Ser Barristan replied. "Who does Ser Arthur serve?"

Varys stepped closer and said in a quiet tone, "Rhaegar's son and heir. You see, Ser Barristan, Arthur Dayne has never stopped being a King's Guard."

Barristan stared at Varys, a doubtful expression on his face. "Those children were slaughtered." Barristan could still feel the hurt in those words. Even remembering the despicable events from long ago made the bile rise to his throat.

"Not all of them. There was one more, a son who was born in Dorne and kept hidden all this time. His mother was…"

"Lyanna Stark," Ser Barristan finished for him. Memories came rushing back of the last days he had spent with Rhaegar before that fateful battle at ford. Despite all the turmoil of the impending battle, Rhaegar had been in good spirits. He had confided in Ser Barristan a few nights before his death that he had married Lyanna. Barristan still remembered the hopeful look in Rhaegar's eyes of the life he and Lyanna would have together after the war had ended. And when the Prince had lost the battle against Robert Baratheon, Ser Barristan was there as well, kneeling next to him as he took his last breaths. The last word he spoke was, "Lyanna."

"Precisely," Lord Varys nodded.

Ser Barristan grabbed a fistful of the eunuch's robe and pulled him closer. "Why do you tell me this?"

Varys glanced at the knight's hand on his robe and then his face. "You look for new purpose. Perhaps I am giving you one."

Barristan released his hold, turned about and left through the door. His strides were long and purposeful as he headed down the alley. All this time the true heir to the Iron Throne lived and Barristan was serving the brash, whoring, drunk of a King, who filled the castle with Lannisters. He felt angry, so very angry.

The city bell began to toll, and Barristan stopped in his tracks, turning his head over his shoulder. People began to awaken, stepping out of their homes and businesses to see what was happening. Horns were being blown by the captains of the guard and the commotion of something urgent afoot. He had a thought to hurry to the harbor, but he knew no ships would be allowed to leave now that the city was on high alert.

A foot soldier came running down the street, yelling, "Ned Stark has escaped! Anyone caught helping him will be executed! Everyone stay inside! No one is to be out on the streets."

Barristan stood there as people began running back into their homes and shops. He spotted a horse tied to a post and unhitched it. Jumping on it's back, he turned it about and began racing back toward the Red Keep.

OOOOOO

Jon and Harran climbed the path up to the Red Keep, determined to reach it in time to help Ser Arthur. They weren't sure how far along the wall the gate was. When they reached the wall, they began to run alongside it, trying to find the entrance. Instead, they came upon a very large, old tree whose branches reached over the wall.

Jon halted and looked up. "Here," he said, and began to climb, Harran behind him. The wind rattled the leaves as they climbed ever higher to the branches that reached over their destination. Jon hesitated, hoping that the limbs were strong enough to hold him without snapping. "One at a time," he told Harran and the other boy nodded in agreement. Jon moved quickly, springing off the center of the branch and landing on the top of the battlements. He crouched, looking for soldiers, but there were none in this spot. Then he waved to Harran to join him.

Harran followed with his bow at the ready and they both began running atop the wall toward a tower. They would have to run through the open door of the battlement tower to get to the other side of the wall and continue toward the gate. When they were at the door, two soldiers were coming up the spiral stairs and noticed them in surprise. It was obvious the two of them did not expect anyone to be on the wall. Harran released the arrow from his bow, shooting one through the neck. Jon had stabbed the other one through with his sword, the dying man's eyes wide with surprise. Jon lifted his foot and shoved the man's torso away from him and off his sword, watching as he fell back down the stairs to his death.

The two boys looked at one another, knowing it was the first kill for both. It happened so quickly, they had had no time to think upon it, only react. But Jon did not want to think on it. The only thing in his mind was saving Ser Arthur. "Come on," he said, running out the other side of the tower.

They slowed, crouching, when they saw a bowman up ahead. His back was to them as his bow was notched and drawn. He was looking down, pointing his arrow at someone on the ground. "Harran," he hissed. "Get him!"

Harran let his own arrow fly, again aiming for the only exposed area of the bowman – his neck. Jon had always envied Harran's ability to hit things from afar. It was his friend's weapon of choice and he used it very skillfully.

The bowman fell to his death over the battlements and the two boys continued to run toward the top of the gate ahead. The sound of metal clashing below alerted them that the conflict was near. They stopped a moment and peered over the edge. Dead bodies were strewn all over the ground and three soldiers were battling with a very weary Ser Arthur below. Jon could see he was losing stamina fast as he had been here quite a while, fighting off patrols.

Harran notched an arrow, trying to aim at the moving targets, but Jon couldn't stand around and wait. He heard his uncle grunt in pain as one the soldiers stabbed him in the leg. Jon hopped up onto the edge and took a flying leap as Ser Arthur began to lose his footing. With his hilt in both hands and sword held downwards, he leapt onto the back of the one about the strike at Ser Arthur, pushing his sword through his leathers and knocking him to the ground. Jon rolled to his feet, trying to reach the dying man who's back still held his sword, when another soldier turned to him, ready to cut him down.

When Ser Arthur saw Jon, renewed adrenaline coursed through his veins and he managed to push himself to a standing position despite his pain. "No, Jon..., run," he managed to say.

An arrow flew from above striking the soldier's shoulder and he gasped, holding onto the shaft as he staggered backwards, hit the wall and slid down to his death. Arthur glanced up, noticing Harran.

Jon had skewered his kill with such force when he jumped from the wall, that he now had a difficult time trying to pull his sword out of the dead man's leathers. The last soldier grinned maliciously as he approached Jon, his bloody sword at the ready. Ser Arthur made a noise of anguish, as he trying to drag himself toward Jon. "No!" he cried. "Run!"

Suddenly they noticed a horse man riding at full speed toward them, kicking up a cloud of dust. Harran was trying to aim at the man below who was ready to strike at Jon, but the open door of the gate was blocking his full view. Arthur fell to his knees, as his leg gave way, imploring Jon to run.

Jon had pulled out his sword, but he had no time to pull his arm back as the soldier's own weapon began to cut the air between them. Then, suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, the soldier was struck down by a sword which was tossed like a spear from the man on horseback. Harran lowered his bow and Jon stood wide eyed at the man who had help them. He had stopped his horse and leapt down, striding over to Ser Arthur.

"How badly are you injured?" the older man asked.

"Mostly my leg," Ser Arthur replied. He grasped Ser Barristan's arm. "Your timing was impeccable, old friend. You have no idea what you have done this day."

Jon knelt next to Arthur, pulling off his sash and tying it around the injured knight's leg over his wound. He glanced up at the older man, wondering who in this city would possibly come to their aid.

"Jon, this is Ser Barristan Selmy an old friend and mentor."

"Thank you for coming to our aid, Sir Barristan," Jon said, standing. "We shall need your horse for Ser Arthur."

"It is not my horse, but you may certainly have it, your Grace."

Jon looked at him sharply. "How?" He glanced between Arthur and Selmy. "How did you know?"

"Only a dragon would try to fly, your Grace," Ser Barristan replied, amusement in his eyes.

Jon knew he was referring to his leap off the battlements. "Please call me Jon," he said. "My true identity remains hidden to most."

Harran was already climbing down the wooden slats of the gate, hopping down the last few feet. "We must leave now," Harran urged.

There was no time to say more as Jon and the old knight helped Ser Arthur onto the horse while Harran kept an arrow notched for trouble. They left through the gate, making their way as quickly down the hill as possible, trying to stay hidden in the treeline in case someone began looking for them from the battlements.

"You should have never risked yourself, Jon," Ser Arthur scolded from horseback.

"I should have never risked you," Jon replied, feeling like it was his fault he let Ser Arthur get Sansa from the Red Keep.

Ser Barristan glanced at them both, as if assessing their relationship to one another.

They kept quiet the rest of the way to the sailboat waiting along the coast, the sense of urgency to get away from sight was heavy upon them. Jon and the older knight helped Ser Arthur off the horse and to the boat. "Take us to the others," Jon ordered the captain as he made sure Ser Arthur was in a comfortable position.

As the wind took them further and further away from shore, everyone felt more at ease.

"They will scour the city first, and then the surrounding land. The navy will be sent last of all. We should be safe as long as we do not linger too long," the older man said, looking out toward the city. He turned to see everyone looking back at him. His eyes met Jon's curious gaze. In the short time he had seen Jon, he had witness compassion, bravery, and love for the knight who had raised him. He favored his Stark kin in appearance, but there was no mistaking the best traits of his father in him either.

Jon studied the old knight in return, wondering why he was so willing to turn against the crown and come with them. "Why did you help us, Ser?" Jon asked.

"I am King's Guard, who now realizes he was serving the wrong King. If I had known about you sooner…," he shook his head. "I wasted too many years." Selmy became somber as he bent the knee to Jon. "I offer you my sword, my council, and my loyalty, your Grace. I will faithfully serve you in any way that I can as I served your father before you and his father before him."

"You should accept his offer, Jon," Sir Arthur commented. "It's obvious you need more than one pair of eyes watching over you after this last exploit."

Jon looked the old knight over. "If Ser Arthur believes you to be true, then I shall too. I don't know what the future will hold, but I accept your sword, your council and your loyalty."

"I'm honored, your Grace," Ser Barristan said, bowing his head.

"Call me, Jon," he reminded him again, uncomfortable with the deference he was being paid.

OOOOOO

The two boats were anchored side by side in the middle of Blackwater Bay as the captain of the smaller vessel waited for instruction, counting the pouch of emeralds Ser Arthur had given him for his assistance and his silence. He was glad of his good fortune, dreaming of the bigger boat he would buy when he returned to Sunspear, perhaps even hire a crew.

Jon, Harran, and Ser Barristan had helped Ser Arthur onto Prince Trystane's boat. Ned took over for Jon and the three carried Ser Arthur down below deck while Jon observed everyone top side. Trystane was in conversation with Lady Sansa, appearing to really be enjoying her company, perhaps too much, while Arya was surrounded by the Sand Snakes. Obara was showing her the correct way to hold a spear and the other two were giving advice. Fiery little Arya seemed to have found kindred spirits. Jon smiled, realizing that they had accomplished their mission and everyone survived. He wanted to stay up here with them, but his first priority was to tend to Ser Arthur.

He made his way to Sansa and Trystane, the later not looking too happy about being interrupted. Sansa smiled shyly at him as he approached. He inclined his head and said, "Lady Sansa, we have great need of your services. Ser Arthur is injured and is in need of stitching. Would that be a skill of yours?"

"Yes, it is. But I'm afraid I did not have time to bring my needle and threads with me," she replied.

"I have these items in a supply box below," Trystane said. "I would be happy to give them to you," he smiled at her.

"Thank you, my Prince," Sansa smiled back. "I have only stitched cloth before this, but I have seen my mother tend to my brother Robb when he was cut." She was eager to prove she was not just a pretty ornament and that she could be useful too amongst all these skilled warriors.

The three of them went below deck and Trystane retrieved the items she needed.

"Uncle, Lady Sansa has agreed to sew your wound," Jon said.

"My thanks, Lady Sansa," Ser Arthur said. Ser Barristan had already cleansed his wound and was washing the other various cuts. Jon took the cloth from the older knight and took over the task while Sansa knelt on the other side and readied her needle.

"It is the least I could do after what you have done for me," she replied.

"Prince Trystane, when you return above, would you please send Lady Arya to us? I wish to acquaint myself with my kin," Jon asked.

"I shall," he nodded, starting up the ladder to the top. Sansa glanced at him curiously and then turned to her father who was sitting against the wall across from them.

"Kin?" she asked.

"Your family does not know of me, I presume," Jon said to Ned.

Ned shook his head.

"Father? Who is he?" she pressed.

Arya had climbed down the ladder, hopping down half way. "I want to know too," she said, coming to sit on the floor in front of Sir Arthur.

Jon's eyes passed from cousin to cousin and he said, "Lady Sansa, Lady Arya, I am Jon… of House Targaryen." He knew Jon wasn't his true name, but it was the name he identified with and decided he was going to use.

"Did you say House Targaryen?" Arya asked in confusion. "Then you cannot be our kin."

"Jon is the son of your Aunt Lyanna and Rhaegar Targaryen," Ned clarified.

Sansa gasped, eyes wide. "They had a child? Is that why you never wanted to talk of her? Because she had a bastard child?"

"No!" Ned stated vehemently. "That is not the reason. It's just that… the memories… the mistakes we made… were too painful to think about."

"Jon is not a bastard," Ser Arthur now spoke. "Say nothing to our Dornish friends above, but Rhaegar had annulled his marriage to Elia and married your aunt in a secret. They were in love."

"Father is this true?" Sansa asked, looking hurt that her father never told them before.

"It is," Ned confessed.

Jon looked about the room, stopping on Ned's sad face. "Lord Stark, I think it time to let the truth be known. I realize you protected my true identity because of Robert Baratheon's rage against House Targaryen. But he is dead now and Westeros is at war for the crown. I would at least let my family and my friends know of me. Both you and Ser Arthur know the truth of the past, and we would hear from you. You are the only one left who truly knew my mother well. You must tell us."

Arthur hissed as Sansa pushed the needle through his skin. She looked at him apologetically but continued with her stitches as she listened.

Ned met Arya's questioning face, and he nodded. "Very well. Though I have kept this secret for so very long that even now I hesitate. It was my way of protecting you, Jon, as I had promised your mother I would do."

"Please start from the beginning. I would know about you and my mother as well," Jon said. Everyone settled in, waiting for Lord Stark to begin. "If there is anyone who does not want to hear this story, you may go on the deck above and wait." No one moved.

"My parents, Lord Rickard Stark and Lady Lyarra, had four children – my older brother Brandon, my sister Lyanna, my younger brother Benjen, and myself. My brother Brandon was to become Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell after my father as he was the eldest son. I was to have much more freedom in my life, as I was only the second son. Lyanna, your mother," Ned said, looking at Jon and smiling slightly, "tried very hard to keep up with her brothers."

Ned smiled fondly at Arya next. "She was very much like my Arya – not wanting to sit and needlepoint. She wanted to be outdoors, riding and practicing with swords."

He met Jon's gaze again. "I would never admit it as a child, but she was very skilled, especially on horseback. She took jumps even grown adults would hesitate to do. She was very brave and kind. She wanted the world to be a just place, where honor ruled the day. When I left to be fostered by Jon Arryn at the Eyrie, she grew very closer to our youngest brother, Benjen."

Ned sighed. "I wasn't the only boy fostered by Jon Arryn, however. Robert Baratheon was also at the Eyrie and that is how we got to know one another back then. We were typical boys, getting in mischief when we were not training. Jon Arryn was yet unmarried, and he took us everywhere with him. We traveled quite a bit and saw much. After three years, we visited Winterfell. When Robert met Lyanna, he became obsessed with her. He petitioned his father to send an offer of betrothal to my father."

"How did she feel about it?" Arya asked, unable to imagine anyone who was like her wanting to marry.

"She wasn't pleased," Ned replied. "Robert had a reputation, even at that young age. He drank too much and had already fathered a few bastards by that time. He was loud and boisterous. All these qualities did not endear him to Lyanna. My father, however, thought it a good match as Lyanna would be the Lady of Storm's End and the alliance would be a powerful one for the North. Lyanna was expected to do her duty and marry the one who was chosen for her."

"But she didn't," Arya stated. "She was kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen."

"No," Ned said, "that was also a lie. They met and fell in love at the Tourney of Harrenhal. She ran off with Rhaegar willingly, though at the time we did not think so. You have to understand that during those days, King Aerys…"

"The mad King," Arya interrupted.

"Aye, he was mad," Ned agreed. "He had it in his mind that everyone was planning on overthrowing him, even his own son. His paranoia and accusations led the Starks and the Baratheons to believe that he had his son take Lyanna as a hostage. Aerys killed my father and brother when they came to King's Landing to plead for her. I now believe Rhaegar never took her to King's Landing at all."

"No, he did not," Ser Arthur now spoke. "They spent some time at the ruins of Summerhall. Your father had loved that place, Jon, so of course he wanted to show it to her. Then they traveled to Dorne. I was with them. They were very much in love."

Ned gave a short nod. "With the death of my father and brother, and the believed abduction of Lyanna, the North, the Stormlands, the Eyrie, and the Riverlands all united against the crown. Aerys had created the rebellion he had feared. With Brandon and my father gone, I had to take Brandon's place as the heir and assume all the responsibilities, including taking Brandon's betrothed as my own to solidify the alliance. Robert ranted and raved about Rhaegar taking Lyanna so much so that no one would dare suggest she went willingly lest they be struck down by his hammer. I think in his mind, as long as everyone believed Aerys was mad and Rhaegar was a criminal, it would justify the destruction of Targaryen rule in Westeros."

Sansa had finished Ser Arthur's stitches, and now sat listening to her father. "Father, why did you not tell us the truth? Why did you let your own family believe the lie?" she asked, hurt plain on her face.

"Children often speak before they think," Ned replied. "I could not risk the truth being known as long as Robert lived. He would have sent assassins to kill Jon and the Daynes for harboring him. I promised Lyanna I would protect him. Keeping Jon a secret was the best way."

Sansa studied Jon and he gazed back at her. "You are truly half Stark," she stated.

"And half Targaryen," Arya added, seemingly happy about it. "Can you summon dragons with your mind?"

Jon smiled fondly at her. "There are no more dragons to summon. But if there were, I would certainly try, dear cousin."

"He is also the rightful heir to the Iron Throne," Ser Barristan Selmy added in reverence. All eyes turned to Ser Barristan.

"We don't know what the future holds, Ser Barristan," Ned replied. "Jon may not want the throne. Trust me that it is not always a desirable position to be in."

"Sometimes it is not about what we want, it is about what is good for Westeros, or, should I say, _who_ is good for Westeros," Ser Barristan replied. "Joffery is a cruel boy who is indulged by his cruel mother. The people will soon grow to hate him if they do not already. Stannis and Renly only care about power. Now that their brother is gone, they fight like crows over his leavings." He looked at Jon. "Just from our short acquaintance, I can see the very qualities that would make for a good King. If you choose this path, I will help you in any way that I can."

"Thank you, Ser Barristan," Jon replied. "I hope I never disappoint you."

"When did you find out the truth, father?" Sansa asked, still needing more of the story she had never known.

"After the Battle on the Trident. A group of us went looking for Lyanna after a defeated soldier admitted to us that Lyanna was at the Tower of Joy in Dorne. When we arrived, we fought with Ser Arthur and his man, unknowing that he was protecting the newborn prince, not keeping Lyanna captive. Lyanna had just given birth and… I was with her in her last moments. She made me promise to protect you from Robert, Jon." Ned grew sad. It was hard for him to remember these things, let alone speak of them. "It was then I realized how wrong we all were. That so many had died for nothing." He shook his head, his eyes downcast. "All the Starks were dead, save myself and Benjen. Robert took the crown and still it wasn't enough for him. He ordered that all Targaryens would be hunted down and killed, even the small children."

It was obvious these events still haunted Ned. He was having a hard time speaking of it. The killing of innocent children was something he could not abide by.

"Why did you leave me with the Daynes? They fought for House Targaryen in the war," Jon asked.

"Before the war, Ashara Dayne and I were friends. I took her brother back to Starfall to tend to his injuries. She offered to raise Jon as her own to keep him hidden from Robert and I believed it to be the best plan."

"I am glad you did, Lord Stark," Jon said. "Ashara Dayne is all I could ever hope for in a mother."

Ned nodded. "I knew she would be."

Arya looked confused. "Why did you support King Robert after the war if you knew there was an heir? Jon is family."

"He was a baby. And all houses suffered great losses after the war. Peacetime was the only way people could rebuild. After leaving Jon with the Daynes, I took Lyanna's body back to King's Landing for Robert to say his final farewells. We argued, he and I. I was upset that he was pursuing the Targaryen children across the sea, and he couldn't understand why I wasn't just as angry as him about Targaryens. He wanted me stay and help him run the kingdom, but I couldn't be there in good conscious. I went home to Winterfell with Lyanna's remains, leaving Jon Arryn to help Robert in King's Landing." He looked at Jon. "Your mother is buried in the crypts of Winterfell. I had a likeness made of her there. I hope someday you can come and see her for yourself."

"I would like to see her," Jon replied, "and meet the rest of your family."

"You are welcome anytime you wish," Ned nodded.

"Peacetime has ended, Lord Stark, and lines have been drawn in the sand," Ser Arthur said. "Your son has called the banners in the North and you will be hunted by the crown."

"Aye," agreed Ned. "That is so."

"Then let us discuss who you wish to see on the throne," Ser Arthur said.

OOOOO

A/N: Phew, that was a difficult chapter to write. I had to rewrite the long discussion on the boat about three times. I try not to make things too dialog heavy, but in some situations, it is necessary. With Ned and his daughters free, I've been doing a lot of thinking about how that will change the events of the war and for Winterfell, though this story is more centered on Jon. Please let me know your thoughts. I love hearing from you! Until next time…


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. It's been a couple of weeks since my last update, but that's not necessarily a bad thing as sometimes new ideas for this plotline begin to take seed during that time. I do like taking characters that we do not know that much about, such as Ser Arthur Dayne, and fleshing them out more. That's one of the fun things about writing fanfiction – you have all these great characters in which we already have basic background knowledge, and we can expand on them. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 10

The mountain trembled, the dry scrub and grasses catching fire as scorching flames shot up through holes and fissures of the rock surface. It would only be a matter of time before the chained and angry dragon inside pulled himself free.

Darius Blackfyre stood on the rock lip of his cave fort gazing across the valley in deep thought and concern at the mountain on the other side of the grassy plain they had cordoned off for their purposes. All these decades in the planning, they had built this place, sending family members far and wide searching for dragon eggs, and bringing them back here to this secluded valley in the mountains.

It had been their dream to see the return of dragons to the lands, with the Blackfyre's as the dragon lords. As descendants of Targaryens, they were the blood of old Valyria and longed for a return to the times when the Valyrians had ruled over all. Everyone would bow before them; the world would be theirs to command. All the careful plans, the gathering of any books and scrolls they could find on dragons, the nurturing of the newly hatched dragons – all of it was now in danger of being quickly unraveled.

They had never counted on this happening, and worst of all it had been his dragon that had taken a different path. His dragon had been the first to hatch, and the fastest to grow. He had been the first in his clan to ride a dragon. It had been the most exhilarating event of his life. And now, Ebrion, his glorious dragon mount, no longer allowed Darius to ride him. Ebrion began throwing him off his back and roaring defiantly at Darius. Moody and despondent, the dragon was beginning to affect the other dragons as if he were an alpha of a wolf pack. When Ebrion roared, the others listened. The Blackfyres now feared Ebrion would lead the others to rebel against them.

It had been so long since this many dragons were alive in the world at the same time – not since before the Doom of Valyria. Darius was beginning to realize that they might not know enough about them. He strode back into the fort in search of his uncle, Clasys, who was the clan historian and master researcher. Clasys had been pouring over the texts and scrolls they had about dragon lore, trying to find answers to their current dilemma. Knowledge had been limited to what had survived, or had been passed down, from ancient times and he was beginning to realize how incomplete it really was.

Clasys looked up from his scroll when Darius walked in and shook his head. "I'm sorry, nephew, there is nothing to help us here."

Darius began pacing in front of the table. "If we lose control, it is not just our future that is gone. They will begin foraging out of our valley and into the villages, then the cities."

"We may have to kill Ebrion, before it is too late," Clasys said. "He is unlike any of the others. He grows too quickly and is displaying a cunning and intelligence that does not bode well for any of us. With him gone, the others may accept their masters without fight."

It hurt to think of killing Ebrion, the dragon he had raised himself. He would rather exhaust all other options before even considering that path. "No," Darius stated. "I will travel to the Isle of Lys. I know they must have more of the old knowledge we seek. The wise men hoard knowledge there, but I will make them tell me what we need to know."

Clasys looked dubious. "Ebrion will break his chains any day now. There is no more time."

"Then let him!" Darius snapped. "I don't care if he swallows a few villagers. I will leave for Lys now and find the answers we seek. I will not let everything be lost."

A loud rumbling resounding in the fort and everyone began running to the entrance to see what was happening, Darius and Clasys as well. Across the valley, the huge dragon had broken through the top of his mountain cave, causing the boulders and trees to tumble down the sides. The chain around Ebrion's neck was still attached the large boulders under the rubble as the dragon stretched his large wings and roared loudly to the sky.

OOOOO

Jon's eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, looking about the cabin of the boat. Everyone had been resting throughout the warm afternoon, waiting for nightfall before they could safely leave Blackwater Bay without being spotted. They had been exhausted after staying up all night and then escaping King's Landing. Jon was sweating and his heart was beating too fast. He stood up and climbed the ladder to the top, taking gulps of fresh sea air into his lungs.

"Can't sleep?" a voice asked behind him.

Jon turned around to see Arya sitting on the deck a few feet away. She had a dagger on her lap. He went and sat down next to her.

"I tried," he replied, "but sometimes I get these dreams that wake me. What about you?"

"I can't sleep either," Arya said. "I just want to get away from King's Landing. I've been watching for boats."

"It's just about dark enough to sail," Jon assured. "We'll be leaving soon."

"What kind of dream did you have?" she asked.

Jon wrapped his arms around his knees and let out a little laugh. "Can I trust you not to tell anyone?"

"Of course," she replied.

"I dreamt of a very big dragon bursting out of a mountain. His roar was so loud, it woke me from sleep. It was strange. I felt as if I were truely there, standing with him on top of that mountain, looking at the sky once more."

Arya's eyes shone with excitement. "Those must be dragon dreams."

"What?"

"Dragon dreams," she repeated. "Haven't you read the histories of your House? Targaryens can have dragon dreams."

"I suppose I should have paid more attention to the history books," Jon smiled. "I was always anxious to get back outside with Harran and our horses." Jon's education had been extensive. Ashara had hired maesters of many different disciplines to teach him. He even had a maester to teach high Valyrian, though Jon never really understood why until now. Ashara had even sat with them and learned as well so Jon would have someone to practice the language with. "Tell me of these dragon dreams, cousin."

"They don't have to be dreams of dragons," she explained. "They can be about the future too, or about prophecy. Some of your ancestors had dreams that came true."

"Let us hope my dream does not come true. The dragon was very angry," he grinned.

"I wish dragons were still around," Arya said, "I would love to ride one. Can you imagine flying high above everything, even the mountains?"

Jon thought back to his other dreams, the ones he frequently had. In those dreams he was flying, soaring high above the land and seas. Perhaps there really was something to the phrase "dragon blooded". He had always thought it was just another way of identifying those of Targaryen lineage. Was there actually something special about his blood?

"It would be quite an adventure," he replied. "Come on, let's go find something to eat."

OOOOO

"What do you mean you can't find them?" Cersei yelled at the captain of the city guard. She paced the floor of her private quarters, her mind reeling with the events of the day. Ned Stark had somehow slipped away during the night. Not only that, he managed to get Sansa from the Red Keep as well. Such incompetence had never been seen before! She stopped in front of the guard and drew her arm back, striking him on the face with a hard slap. If only Tywin was here instead of fighting in a stupid war for her damned imp of a brother who was foolish enough to get himself captured by Catelyn Stark, none of this would have ever happened. He had taken their best soldiers with him and left her with this sorry lot.

Joffrey had taken it upon himself to ride out with a group of soldiers, declaring that he wanted to be there when the Starks were captured. Cersei could not believe the devious tortures Joffrey promised upon Ned and Sansa when they were captured. It was chilling to think that her own son could conceive of such horrors, but he was King now and if she did not find them first, she feared what he may do. Oh, how she wished Jaime were here instead of riding off to war. Everyone had left her alone to manage this mess.

She turned to Lord Baelish and Lord Varys who were both standing nearby, looking concerned. "Can either of you offer any council? Or are you as useless as everyone else?" she snapped. She stepped in front of Varys. "Sansa was taken from here and none of your little birds saw a thing?"

"Sadly, no, your Grace. Even little birds sleep," he replied. "Perhaps she walked out on her own."

"After killing her guard with a sword through the throat?" Cersei snarled. "That little mouse couldn't kill a spider." She stepped closer to Varys, leaning in his face. "But I can."

She spun about facing the captain again. "What are you still doing here?" she yelled. "Go find Ned Stark or I'll have your head!"

OOOOO

Night fell and Prince Trystane had navigated the boat out of Blackwater Bay and onto the open sea, the smaller sailing vessel following behind him. The Starks would soon board the other boat and sail to White Harbor and their home to the North, while the rest of them continued to Sunspear to face Prince Doran. Trystane put down anchor and went below to join the others who were in conversation. "It is time, Lord Stark," Prince Trystane announced. "The captain awaits your family."

Ned nodded and looked about the cabin. "I don't know how to begin to thank you for all you have done. I was certainly a dead man and now I am free. My daughters are safe as well."

"You return to war, Lord Stark," Ser Barristan reminded. "And White Harbor may not be safe. The Lannisters will expect you there."

"House Manderly are my bannermen. They will aid us," Ned replied.

"They will be the first to be attacked, and their best men are most likely with your son's forces," Ser Barristan countered. "It is best that you avoid White Harbor and make land elsewhere."

Ned looked concerned. He studied the faces of his daughters, knowing that the journey home may turn out to be long and dangerous. They would be hunted the whole way. And if they reached Winterfell, Ned knew he'd have to leave them behind to join Robb in the war. As far as he knew, Catelyn was still at the Eyrie with her sister, holding the imp hostage. His two younger sons were there alone with minimal household staff to look after them as it was. And while Winterfell would be far enough from the battles, the crown would certainly be expecting Ned and his daughters to be going there. They could have already dispatched assassins.

"I need one last favor," Ned said, turning to Jon. "When you get to Sunspear, can you send a raven to Winterfell, to Maester Luwin, and warn him to trust no one and to make a plan of escape if trouble comes. I will get there as soon as I can."

"Of course," Jon replied, noting Ned's fear for his family. "Lord Stark, I realize you need to return North to aid your son in battle. But is there a reason you must take your daughters as well?"

"I take them home, where they belong," Ned replied.

"Lord Stark," Ser Arthur now spoke, "the sailboat you take is small and swift, but the journey will be long and perilous. It is no journey for children. Your chances of reaching Winterfell will be better if you are alone. Let us take your daughters to my sister. She can keep them safe at Starfall. The crown will be too busy looking North to bother searching Dorne. When all is safe again, you may send for them."

"I cannot ask this of Ashara. If the Lannisters found out, she would be charged with treason," Ned shook his head. "I would not bring such trouble upon your family."

Prince Trystane stepped forward. "Sunspear will protect your daughters." He glanced at Sansa, who blushed and looked at her feet.

"I appreciate that, Prince Trystane, but it would not be wise to drag Dorne into the war if they were found harboring Starks," Ned replied.

"Dorne would love to go to war against the Lannisters," Obara smirked, her sisters nodding in agreement.

"Dorne is not yet ready for war," Ser Arthur commented. "But the time will come when they will join in." He glanced at Jon and then back to Ned. "In the meantime, we can change their names and color their hair. Their true identities will be hidden, like their cousin has hidden his."

Arya stood up from her seat on the floor. "Please father, let us go to Dorne." She glanced at the Sand Snakes. "They train their girls to be warriors there. I want to train too. I want to learn to fight so I can help you and Robb win the war. I don't want to go home and sew dresses all day. That's not me."

Ned gave her a small, sad smile. He had only just got them back and the thought of parting with them again bothered him. Yet, the thought of something terrible happening to them on the journey home was even worse. "Sansa, do you wish this as well?"

Sansa's mouth fell open slightly as she stared at her father with big eyes. She didn't think he'd give her a choice. Both choices scared her, but being hunted by Lannister soldiers while trying to reach Winterfell seemed the worst of the two. Besides, Prince Trystane seemed kind, unlike that monster Joffrey. She couldn't imagine Trystane ever letting his men beat her. "I… will do as you wish, Father," she replied, not wanting to hurt Ned's feelings by choosing Dorne over Winterfell.

Ned shut his eyes a moment and let out a long breath. Catelyn would not be pleased about it, but it would be the safest option for them both, at least until the war was over. He looked from Ser Barristan to Ser Arthur. "Can I have your words that you will see to their safety?"

"You have mine," Ser Barristan replied.

"And mine," Ser Arthur promised.

"Mine as well," Jon added. "They are my family too, Lord Stark."

Ned put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Aye, they are. I have faith in you, Jon, whatever the future may hold. Your mother would be so proud of the man you've become, just as I am."

Jon couldn't help the emotion that he felt at those words. He clasped Ned's arm in return. "Thank you, uncle," he replied.

Ned squeezed Jon's shoulder one more time and nodded, before turning to Sansa and Arya and holding out his hands. "Come, daughters, let us say our farewells." Arya and Sansa both took a hand, their eyes watering. "Now, now," Ned said, "no tears. Ashara Dayne is a good friend and you must both obey her as well as Ser Arthur. When it is safe, I will come for you."

The two girls threw their arms about Ned and held on, weeping silently.

"Shhh…, now, be brave," Ned said, kissing the top of their heads. "Though you will be known by another name, never forget who you really are."

Arya nodded. "Yes, Father."

OOOOOOO

They had given Ned what supplies they could before he departed for the North with the captain and Jon had given him his sword as well as a dagger. Arya and Sansa stood on the deck of Prince Trystane's boat and watched as their father sailed further and further away. When he was barely visible in the distance, Jon called them over and said, "Let us prepare you for Dorne, cousins."

As they made their way south, Jon began to tell them of his life at Starfall and of Ser Arthur and Ashara. He spoke of the desert and the stars, the balmy nights and the fragrant flowers. He wanted them to see the beauty of Dorne and anticipate the good things to come. Then he told them of Sunspear and the Princes of Dorne. He told them of his time there and how he grew up thinking he was Jon Sand, a bastard, and that he had only known who he was for a short time. He told them of the grand palace of Sunspear and the water gardens where they could swim and sail and listen to the musicians play. He explained life at court and his training, as well as the different types of foods that were served.

The Sand Snakes had found some shawls to cover their hair and advised them to keep their heads covered until they could blacken their hair, commenting that Sansa's bright red color would surely stand out in Dorne. "Spies may be watching the harbors," Nymeria said. The girls had joined Jon and his cousins on the deck, with Harran soon seating himself nearby as well. All of them wanted to contribute ideas for names and suggestions for their new identities.

"How about we say they are Ser Arthur's bastard daughters?" Tyene laughed.

Jon frowned at her. "Ser Arthur would not bring his bastards to court. He is a knight."

"Jon is right, they should not be made bastards," Trystane added while he adjusted the sails. "I would like to see them at court," he smiled at Sansa.

Nymeria raised her chin. " _We_ are bastards and _we_ are at court!"

"You are royal bastards," Trystane replied. "That is different."

Obara rolled her eyes. "If they are going to be with Lady Ashara, they should be related to her. Doesn't she have cousins?

Jon nodded. "I believe so. I'll speak with Ser Arthur and see what he thinks."

OOOOOO

It was the middle of the night when they arrived at Sunspear, the harbor quiet except for Prince Oberyn sitting on his horse with a contingent of guards behind him. He did not look pleased when they disembarked, his eyes scanning each one of them, noting Ser Arthur leaning on Harran, and stopping on the oldest among them.

"Is that Ser Barristan Selmy?" Oberyn asked, wary.

"It is, Prince Oberyn," Ser Barristan bowed respectfully. "I have renewed my friendship with Ser Arthur and pledged to serve his cause."

Oberyn's eyes flicked to Jon. "Have you?" His eyes then stopped on two unfamiliar girls wearing shawls on their heads and looking nervously around at their surroundings. "And who are these children?"

"They are my cousins," Jon spoke.

Oberyn took another look at them. "Indeed?" he said, knowing that meant they were Starks. They all had to be careful not to say too much out here in public, but he fully intended to get the whole story once they were back in the private audience chamber of the palace. "Does this mean that your mission was a success?" he asked.

"Yes," Jon replied. "I apologize for leaving without telling anyone. It was all my idea and the others should not be blamed. I assure you that Prince Trystane stayed on his boat and was not put in danger's way. Your daughters are unharmed as well."

"It is true, uncle," Trystane spoke. "I have not left the boat until now."

"Your father will be glad to hear it," Oberyn replied. Then he addressed his daughters. "You three will return to your mothers immediately. They have been very concerned."

"Yes, Father," they replied, hurrying off into the city and toward their homes.

"Ser Arthur, thank you for going after them." Oberyn's gaze went to the cloth bandage wrapped around the knight's leg. "It seemed you paid the heaviest price for this folly."

"I will recover, my Prince," Ser Arthur spoke.

"Indeed, but what other problems have you brought for Dorne?" Oberyn asked, his eyes wandering over to their three extra guests.

A carriage was coming up the street toward them. They all watched as Ashara Dayne stepped out and hurried to Jon, taking him in a grateful embrace. "Oh, my dear boy. I was so worried." She held his face and looked him over. "You are uninjured?"

"I am whole, Mother," he replied, a little embarrassed at her fawning. She released him when she noticed her brother was injured.

"Arthur, your leg?" she fretted.

"It will heal, sister." He inclined his head to the two scared girls. "Look who we have brought for a visit. It is cousin Allinor's daughters, Carella and Betina."

Ashara appeared dumbstruck for a moment as she studied her brother's expression.

"I will enjoy getting to know my cousins, Mother," Jon added. It was his way of letting her know who they really were while maintaining the facade of their family secret.

Ashara turned to the two girls and hurried over. "Of course." She hugged them in turn while saying aloud, "It is so wonderful to have you here. I have not seen you both since you were very young. We will have so much fun getting to know one another again."

"It is late," Oberyn announced, having little patience for the pretense happening before him. "Doran and I will see everyone in the audience chamber tomorrow morning. Bring your _cousins_ as well, Lady Ashara." A horse was brought forward. "Come, Trystane, let us get you back to your father." Trystane mounted, giving a reassuring wave to Sansa before trotting off with Oberyn, surrounded by guards.

OOOOOO

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Originally, I hadn't planned on Sansa and Arya coming to Dorne. They were to sail away with Ned. But it seemed that some of you wanted to see Jon have more of a relationship with his cousins. That really couldn't happen with them so far away at Winterfell. I'm now happy they will be here as it will add more subplots to play with. Let me know your thoughts. Until next time…


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you for all your support and comments. I really appreciate the feedback and knowing that people are enjoying the story. Here's a nice long chapter for you. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and make no money from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter 11

It had been two weeks since he'd left King's Landing, heading north up the King's Road by foot and spending the occasional day at taverns, eating his fill and drinking a bit too. Gendry had never been out of the city, but he knew enough to keep to himself as much as possible, especially with the soldiers riding up and down the road, searching for Ned Stark. Whenever he heard the noisy clang of their armor and hooves of their horses, he ducked off the road and into the trees for cover. And he wasn't the only one.

He frequently found himself hiding alongside other travelers and poor unfortunates who had their homes burned by the more unscrupulous of Lannister men. As he traveled further north, the destruction was becoming worse, as the people were being punished for being northerners. Gendry wondered where the northern army was, for they certainly were nowhere along the King's Road. The rumors in the taverns were that Robb Stark was in the Riverlands.

Gendry had no idea why he left on the word of the Dornishman standing on his doorstep that night. It was a feeling inside of him that he couldn't ignore. And when he heard the news of Ned Stark's escape that morning, he had gathered up his few belongings and took to the cliffs. He knew he needed answers as to why not just one, but two Hands had taken an interest in him, first Jon Arryn and then Ned Stark. And if Ned Stark was heading to Winterfell too, then perhaps he could finally have clarity.

Now he found himself trudging along through the forest running parallel to the King's Road, the sounds of a sizable band of soldiers echoing off the trees around him. They were making camp along the road and Gendry knew he had to go deeper into the woods in order to go around them safely. He crossed a shallow stream, stopping to fill his water skein, his stomach growling for food. It had been two days since his last decent meal at a tavern and he knew it may be two more as he had no hope of finding an establishment this far off the road. He had never had to hunt for his food before. He had never left the city before and now he found himself a bit worried that his sense of direction was terrible as well, especially at night.

He wanted to lay down and sleep the night off, but he feared that some in the camp would come foraging out this far to hunt, so he trudged on. He hiked for what seemed like hours, crawling over falling trees, the ground getting more and more wet and slushy. Mud oozed up around his boots, pulling and tugging at them. The night was filled with the songs of frogs and crickets, becoming almost deafening as one hour passed into the next. Gendry kept hoping the mud would end and he'd get to more solid ground at any moment, but it seemed to go on and on with no respite.

The last thing he remembered was a different kind of whistle piercing the night, the hard slap of something hitting his head from behind. Then the night was silent.

OOOOOO

Ned had waited most of the day at the edge of the bog. He knew the lookouts had seen him, he remembered the way it was done. It had rained all day and he did his best to stay dry in the big cloak that hid his features. This was a secluded spot, a dangerous one. He knew the soldiers would never venture this deep in to find him. The last fifteen days since he had made land had been days of avoiding people, even ones that might have supported him. He knew that many would spill all their secrets under threat or torture. But this place he knew would be safe. Everyone knew the dangers and stayed away.

Ned knew the exact tree to wait under. And by late afternoon a canoe approached with two people in it – a man and a girl, no older than his Sansa.

The girl stood holding a fishing spear and looking him over with suspicion. When they were close enough, she called out. "Who are you?"

"Ned Stark," he answered honestly.

Her eyes widened a bit and she looked him over more carefully. She stepped out of the canoe and came closer. "I'm Meera Reed, my Lord, daughter of Howland Reed."

"I'm honored, my Lady," Ned replied. "I would like to meet with your father. We are old friends."

"I know this," Meera nodded. "I have heard all the stories. We knew you would come. My brother Jojen is a seer. Come, Lord Stark, I will take you to my father."

Ned nodded and followed her to the canoe. He had been only once to Greywater Watch, very long ago, back when it's current Lord, Howland Reed, was a mere boy. Since that day at the Tower of Joy when Lyanna had died, Howland had retreated to his home, never to venture forth again. Howland had taken Lyanna's death hard, and upon learning that she had went willingly with Rhaegar, and that all the death the resulting wars had wrought were for not, he had lost heart. He did not want to serve Robert. He did not want to serve anyone anymore. Ned knew that feeling. After the war, he too had lost heart. In his own way, he had retreated to Winterfell and immersed himself in family. Though he still had to serve Robert as Warden of the North, he was far enough away from King's Landing to feel as if he was not part of them. He did so as long as he could, until Robert had come to fetch him after fourteen years.

"Is it true? Is King Robert dead?" Meera asked as they glided along.

"Aye, it's true," Ned replied, looking about.

The old Gods were still respected here at the Greywater. Everywhere Ned looked he could see their faces watching them pass. Ned began to feel a little bit of comfort as they paddled further and further into the swamplands. The ancient trees seemed to reach out to Ned, lending him comfort and strength after all the running and hiding he had been doing the past three weeks. Here, among his Gods, he was safe. He took in a deep breath and let it out as the peace surrounding him held him like the arms of a mother.

They began to pass the floating homes of the Crannogmen who came out to watch as Meera escorted Ned toward the great house of the Greywater.

Soon Ned spotted a pier on which a man stood, long of hair and bearded. Despite being older and hairier, Ned recognized his old friend. When the three of them had stepped onto the pier, Howland bowed to Ned. "My Lord, welcome to Greywater Watch." They embraced arms and Howland led Ned inside. "You have met my daughter, Meera, Lord Stark. And here is my son, Jojen." He indicated a young boy about eleven summers.

"Lord Stark," Jojen bowed.

"You have a fine family, Lord Reed, and I thank you for your hospitality in my time need," Ned replied.

"We know of Robert's death and of the wars for the crown," Howland said. "Dangerous times have come again. But we are prepared here at the Greywater. No Lannister army will pass through."

Ned nodded. "They will go around. The reputation of the Greywater frightens foe and friend alike. But I've not come to ask you to join the war, only to remain my true and loyal friend."

"You need not ask for that which you already have," Howland replied. "Come, my friend, you will rest as long as you need."

Ned stayed as their guest for two nights, resting and eating, getting stronger for the journey he must finish. He sat with Howland many an hour, speaking of old times and new. Howland did not ask of Jon and Ned wondered if it was because of his children and household staff listening. Ned had appreciated Howland's secrecy that he swore to Ned when they were together on that fateful day. Though Ned wondered at the son, this Jojen, who they said was a seer. Did he already know? Each Ned met Jojen's eyes, they reminded him of the eyes of the old Gods, eyes that saw everything, everywhere.

On the second morning as he prepared to leave, Jojen approached Ned and stood nearby. "Lord Stark, do you know a Gendry?"

Ned faced him, startled. "I do," he said cautiously.

"Come with me," Jojen waved, beginning to walk away. Ned followed him down narrow wooden paths suspended over the water until they came to a place where a man lay in a net, dangling from a tree limb. "We found him getting too close to the Greywater. My father thinks he was a spy looking for you, since he seems southern. But I have seen something different about him. He says he was on his way to Winterfell at your invitation."

The boy in the net turned his head and stared at Ned. Then he sat up straighter as best he could. "Lord Stark? Is that really you?"

"Aye, it tis," Ned replied. "I'm gladdened to see you took my advice."

"I'd rather be back in my shop, than here," Gendry replied. "Have you come to rescue me? I cannot eat one more frog served to me on a pointy stick."

"I just found out you were here," Ned replied. "Be glad that you were fed at all."

Gendry nodded with a wry grin. "Can I come down now?"

Ned looked at Jojen in question and the boy nodded, walking over to the trunk of the tree and releasing the knot. Gendry fell into the swamp and struggled to get out of the opening in the net. Then he swam to the wooden walkway where Ned and Jojen stood, pulling himself out of the water.

"Is Winterfell nearby?" Gendry asked, squeezing the water out of his shirt. "I seemed to have lost my direction."

"We still have a journey ahead of us," Ned replied. "What weapons can you use?"

Gendry shook his head. "I made weapons, but never had a need to use them. I suppose I can hit things with a hammer hard enough."

"Meera and I will come with you to Winterfell too, Lord Stark," Jojen announced. "I need to speak with your son, Bran."

"I am being pursued. Bringing a group of children along is dangerous for all concerned," Ned replied. "Your father needs you here, Jojen."

"My sight can be useful, Lord Stark. I can see when enemies approach before they are upon us," Jojen countered, "and Meera is an excellent hunter. My father already knows of us leaving with you. He may not care to be involved in this world, Lord Stark, but my sister and I must do our part."

OOOOO

They had traveled the better part of the day before Gendry began asking Ned questions. Ned knew the boy would eventually get to it. He was pleasantly surprised at how hearty Meera and Jojen proved to be. They were watchful and quiet and, ever so often, Jojen would stop and close his eyes before announcing the path was safe for travel. At midafternoon, Jojen had advised them to not cross over a farmer's land or there would be trouble. Ned didn't know what to make of the boy, but he would humor him for now. At least until there was real danger involved. Why Howland would let his children walk with Ned into such danger, he could not fathom.

"Lord Stark," Gendry began as they trudge along, "I need to know why you warned me. What danger was I in? And why did you and Jon Arryn take such an interest in me?"

"Jon Arryn had discovered the truth and he was killed to keep his silence. When I came to King's Landing, I needed to find out what secret he had died for. When I found it, I was betrayed and charged with treason. I would have been dead by now if I hadn't been rescued."

"What truth was it? And what does it have to do with me?" Gendry asked.

Ned gave him a side long glance. "The truth is, Cersei's children do not belong to Robert. There are Ser Jaime Lannister's bastards. They have no right to the throne."

"Her brother? She lays with her brother?"

"Aye, she does. I should have never confronted her about it. I didn't realize the depths she would go keep the crown in Lannister hands. That was my mistake."

"And your visit to me?"

"It's no secret Robert drank and laid with different women. He has multiple bastards and each one of them has dark hair. Even when the woman had light colored hair, his bastards had dark. And you…, there is no mistaking you. I knew Robert at your age. You look exactly like he did."

Gendry stopped walking, shocked by Ned's revelation. Meera and Jojen, who had been quietly listening in, stopped as well. Jojen shut his eyes as if seeing everything in his mind.

"I'm the King's bastard?" Gendry finally asked. Jojen and Meera then looked to one another.

Ned nodded. "Jon Arryn knew it when he saw you, and so did I."

Gendry's feet began to move again slowly as his mind struggled to catch up with this news. He was a royal bastard?

"And that puts me in danger? Why?"

"There is a battle for the crown right now. When power shifts to a new family, what do you imagine they do to any offspring of the previous King? What did Tywin Lannister do the Targaryen children when they lost their kingdom?"

"Why would they care about a bastard? I cannot inherit anything."

Ned looked him over before gazing North. "We linger too long. Let us continue before it gets dark."

Ned would say no more as they walk. Gendry's mind was filled with the new revelation about himself.

At nightfall, they made a small camp away from the trail. Meera and Jojen had left to gather small sticks and brush for the fire. When they were away from the other two, Jojen said, "Lord Stark lied to him."

"What?" Meera asked. Ned Stark was not known to be a liar. But neither was her brother.

"He's not a bastard," Jojen replied. "I see this Meera. I see it. He's a prince. The Queen got rid of him. She told the King he died, but he didn't. She couldn't kill him, her own child, so she gave him to a woman in a tavern whose baby died. She switched the babies."

"Why would she do that?"

"Hatred for her husband King. She wanted to give him sorrow for not loving her no matter how hard she tried."

"She is very cruel," Meera replied. She sighed and ran a hand over her eyes, thinking. "You cannot say a word about this to anyone, Jojen. Swear you will not say a word? Besides, maybe Lord Stark didn't know about the Queen. It could not be a lie if he did not know."

"If he doesn't know, then we should tell him. The throne belongs…"

Meera waved a hand in his face, cutting him off. "Shush now," she hissed, leaning closer. "You know who Ned Stark would have on the throne, and it is _not_ Gendry."

"He would have a prince working the forge of Winterfell, so he could see his sister's son on the throne?" Jojen frowned.

Meera shook a finger at her brother. "He would make right the mistakes of the past. Robert should have never been King and Ned Stark knows this. Why would he put Robert's son on the throne over his own blood? Over the rightful heir? No, Jojen, do not speak of this again. It is kindness enough that he keeps Gendry alive."

Jojen bent to pick up some kindling and then met his sister's worried gaze. "Very well, Meera," he sighed. "I will not say anything. Besides, the Gods have already chosen our king. They have sent their sign." He looked up and Meera followed his gaze to the sky. "The age of dragons has returned and with it comes the age of magic. The ancient song will rise from the earth and with it all the things we believed were myth."

A fiery red streak shown dark against the twilight sky.

OOOOOO

Jon stood on a balcony, looking up at the strange red streak that filled the sky. Everyone at court had been talking about it, pointing. The royal artists were drawing and painting its likeness. Watching it gave Jon a strange feeling inside. A servant came by with a jar of wine, refilling Jon's glass. Behind him a court reception was being held and a banquet for some guests who had arrived from Essos. Many had seemed quite different than any he had met before.

There was a woman, Lady Quaithe of the Shadow Lands, that hid her face under a mask of small golden platelets. Trystane had whispered to Jon earlier that she had the gift of sight. Jon had never met anyone who had claimed to have those powers before, so he kept his distance. But, now, distracted by the sign in the sky, he did not see her come next to him until she spoke.

"It is glorious, is it not?" she asked.

"It is, my Lady," Jon replied.

"I am Quaithe, your Grace," she bowed. "And I have traveled far to finally meet you."

Jon sucked in a breath and held it a moment. He glanced furtively about, making sure no one heard. "How would you know of me?" he asked in a low voice.

"I see much and your birth had been foretold very long ago, before anyone here was born," she replied. She looked to the sky. "The sign is for you, your Grace. It is the beginning of a new era you bring to all the lands. The magic in your blood, the magic of ancient ones, more ancient than the first men and the Gods of Old Valyria. The time of dragons has returned. May I touch you?"

She had turned her eyes, the only visible part of her face to Jon. He didn't know what to make of this request, but he didn't want to be rude either. He nodded once.

She stepped closer and place her hands reverently on either side of his face, staring into his eyes as if she were reading his soul. After a few moments, her eyes began to water and the tears that fell were hidden on her masked cheeks. She lowered her hands to his hands and brought them both up to her heart, bowing her head. "I am forever your servant, your Grace."

"I hope I do not disappoint you, my Lady," Jon replied, unsure what to say to this strange woman and hoping no one was witnessing the deference he was being paid by her.

She raised her eyes to his again. "You will not."

He bowed his head slightly to her and then released her hands. "Enjoy your evening, Lady Quaithe," he said, turning to go inside. But before he could take two steps he saw that there were three other guests from Essos on their knees with their heads bowed in front of him. This was all too much. He turned his head about until he saw Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan standing nearby, observing it all. Ser Barristan didn't seem shocked at all. Ser Arthur grinned and saluted Jon with his wine glass, knowing his nephew was getting flustered by the attention. Jon shook his head and strode past them and back into the banquet hall.

OOOOOO

It had been a month since Jon had returned from King's Landing and it was obvious that something was changing inside of him. His 'dragon dreams', as Arya had called them, were becoming more frequent. He didn't even have to be fully asleep for them to happen. It seemed that at moments he would close his eyes to rest, or listen to Arianne play the harp, and he would feel as if he were flying. He began to accept that this was just part of being Targaryen, strange as it was.

Sansa and Arya had adjusted to their new lives with ease. Lady Ashara had introduced them in court as her 'cousins'. Every morning they would wash their hair with henna to darken before they went outside the family quarters. Sansa quickly grew to love Lady Ashara as she dressed her in beautiful Dornish fashions and gave her council on all manner of things. Arya, however, did not care about fashion or looking beautiful. She followed Jon and Harran to the training grounds every morning and was relentless in her determination to learn to fight. And though she was supposed to be Lady Carella, the Sand Snakes fondly nick-named her Little Wolf because she fought so viciously. She was younger than everyone in the group and Jon stood ever ready to defend her if needed. But he found that everyone treated her like a little sister and assisted her desire to learn.

Jon had thought for certain there would be some sort of punishment from the Princes of Dorne for taking their children with him on a dangerous mission, but surprisingly Trystane had convinced his father that it was the most exciting time of his life. Doran knew what it was like to be so sheltered that you were not allowed much adventure. With his gout, he knew what it was like to have limits. And because Trystane was so happy and proud of their success, Doran had decided to forgive Jon with a promise that he'd never involve Trystane in something so dangerous again.

Yet, Jon also felt that despite their ire, he had earned a degree of their respect. And with the addition of Ser Barristan to his guard, and his success in rescuing the Starks, the Princes of Dorne began to see that there was indeed something more to Jon.

Trystane and Sansa took daily walks together and Jon knew the attraction was growing every day. Sansa would also come to watch the training sessions at times, but it proved to be a big distraction for Trystane who was always trying to show off for her. They smiled at one another flirtatiously and Jon would have to laugh when Arya would roll her eyes and say a few choice words under her breath about her sister's romance.

Trystane had confided in Jon that he had spoken with his father about asking Lord Stark for a contract of betrothal.

"What did he say?" Jon asked.

"He agreed it would be a strong match as it would ally us with the North. But we cannot announce anything publicly until Dorne has officially entered the war," Trystane explained. "I think she would be happy here, don't you?"

"She already seems happy here," Jon agreed.

But all that hopeful anticipation for Trystane and Sansa seemed to have disappeared with the announcement that Princess Myrcella was coming to Sunspear with the expectation that she would be betrothed to Trystane. Sansa had fled to her room in tears while Trystane had insisted upon a private audience with his father immediately.

"Father, how could you do this? You know I love Sansa. And Myrcella is the Queen's bastard daughter. She is not fit to be my wife! You would have me marry a Lannister bastard?" Trystane raged. "She is the daughter of the enemy!"

"That is precisely why we need her to come to Dorne," Doran calmly replied, his mind already made up on the matter. "She is yet too young to marry, Trystane. But with Myrcella here, the Lannisters will not suspect Dorne of siding with their enemies and will be less likely to make moves against Dorne."

Trystane calmed a bit. "You will not make me marry her?"

"Of course not," Doran replied. "As you said, she is unfit. But she must never know that. You will pretend to be her betrothed until the time comes that we do not have to hide our true allegiances anymore."

"But what of Lady Sansa?"

"Sansa will go to Starfall with Lady Ashara for now. Myrcella knows Sansa and may recognize her true identity. I still intend to make an offer of betrothal to Lord Stark for you and Sansa. You will have to be patient."

"What will we do with Myrcella once we join the war?"

Doran shrugged. "She will be a political hostage to be traded for something we want. Or, if you find her desirable, you can keep her as your concubine. Ellaria can see to her training when she is of age. But I promise you, a Lannister will never be Princess of Dorne, not after what they have done to my sister and her children."

OOOOO

The Prince of Dorne's royal council had decided that Myrcella's quarters would be at the Water Gardens away from the main palace and the training grounds. There the girl would find friendship among Oberyn's younger daughters and be less likely to witness any important government doings. Trystane would only have minimal contact with her, some meals perhaps and other social gatherings. The Prince was satisfied with this arrangement because it meant he could be himself most of the time and it would be possible for Sansa to visit if she stayed away from the Water Gardens. It also meant Little Wolf would not have to leave off her training since Myrcella was forbidden from going to the training grounds. And Trystane rather liked the spunky little Stark.

He did miss having Sansa watch him train from the viewing platform next to his father. Most curiously the spot was now filled by his sister, Arianne, who had never taken an interest in watching until recently. He followed her gaze to the older boys with their shirts off, training in the sun. He couldn't figure out who she was most interested in, Jon or Harran, perhaps both. He felt a bit sorry for her as she was the only woman in Dorne expected to stay a virgin until marriage. A royal Princess was held to higher standards than others. If an alliance was to be made outside of Dorne, it might be to a husband that expected a virgin. Even if the Dornish thought little of virginity, other lands still held it in importance. Even his Aunt Elia had to remain a virgin until she married Prince Rhaegar.

OOOOO

Arianne stepped under her father's umbrella shade and placed her hands on his shoulders affectionately. Doran reached up and patted her hand. "Daughter, come sit with me."

She sat on the empty chair next to him and a servant ran up to her with an ostrich feather fan, giving her solace from the heat. They watched the morning training session in silence a few moments before Doran commented, "You have taken an interest in the training lately."

"I did not realize how interesting it could be. The little girl is quite entertaining."

Doran smiled. "Yes, I like her too. She has much determination. Are you certain it is only her you watch?"

There was a few moments silence before she said, "Jon Sand - he is quite interesting too."

"I see," Doran replied. "You feel attraction for him? He is quite handsome and strong."

"He is a mystery, father," she replied. "He has not one, but two famous knights standing nearby. He trains with the royal family. He speaks, and everyone listens. Even my wild cousins will follow him. There is something about him that different than anyone I've ever known. He has secrets and I think you know what they are. Do you, father?"

"I may," Doran answered, smiling softly. He sighed and added, "But you have not answered my question yet. Do you feel attraction for him?"

"What does that matter? I cannot have anyone except the one I marry. And you will not give me to a bastard." Her expression saddened, and she stood. "Happiness is not for princesses." She bent and kissed his cheek before walking away.

Doran hated to see her sad. He loved his children dearly and he did want them to find happiness in their marriages. He studied Jon carefully. If Jon became the King, he would gladly give him Arianne. But that could be many years from now and Doran was already receiving many offers of betrothal for Arianne. He was also well aware that once the world knew of the Targaryen heir, everyone would be offering Jon their daughters' hands. Though Targaryen Kings could take more than one wife, only the first wife was Queen and her son the heir. And Doran would want that Queen to be his Arianne, his jewel.

He thought back to their guests they recently had from Essos, all of them involved in the Targaryen restoration in one way or another. Jon had impressed them greatly, he could tell. Their leaders wanted Jon to come to Essos where he could gather his allies, including his Targaryen aunt. They thought it would a good alliance, but Doran wasn't so sure. By all accounts it sounded like she wanted the crown for herself. Would she see Jon as the enemy? And the rumors… that she had hatched three dragons. Could that be true? Lady Quaithe had told him that she had met Daenerys Targaryen and her three baby dragons in the city of Qarth.

Doran had a lot to think about.

Arianne was right, however. Anyone could see that Jon had charisma and other qualities that made people want to listen and follow him. He was his father's son. Everyone had loved Rhaegar, and they would love Jon too.

OOOOO

A/N I hope people don't mind what I did with Gendry. I sort of ran with the lines we get from Cersei to Catelyn at Winterfell when she tells about losing her first child - a dark haired boy. I would imagine that boy would be about Gendry's age since it was early on in her marriage to Robert. And Jojen's psychic ability comes in real handy:) Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know your thoughts and thank you for reading.


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